


Find Me In Every One

by OnyourRadar



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Angst? I don't really think so but my idea of heart wrenching might just be..., Class Differences, Dystopian World, ELU end goal, Hurt/Comfort, I don't build the world, I'm sorry for these tags, Imane is a prophet, Lack of good nutritious food for our boys, Look deep my friends, M/M, Magical realism? Maybe, Oh My God, Sort Of, Soulmate AU, Spit As Lube, There is this weird thing between Idriss and Yann that sort of wrote itself out, body art, but done a little differently, carnival theme, cum as lube, dirty - Freeform, dirty dirty, fUCK ME, idk - Freeform, intimate boys, language of flower, lucas is a dreamer, metaphors?, odd futuristic technology, one night stand sex, smutty sex, soft, they just exist in it, to love, what, what was i thinking with this fic, with no explanation because I can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23809474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyourRadar/pseuds/OnyourRadar
Summary: This is complete. I'm posting it in parts instead of all 28k in one go"Oh where's  the fun in that. You're at The Booth. We only stop here twice a year. Live a little, how bout this." Eliott drops his arm. "This would be your first time, correct?"Lucas jerked his head."Then it's  on the house."Behind Eliott, Idriss barks a laugh."What a fucking gamble, Demaury."On the house. Lucas says fuck it and takes a step closer to the table.--or--That odd Soulmate AU
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant, Sofiane Alaoui/Imane Bakhellal
Comments: 74
Kudos: 198





	1. I walked those empty streets

**Author's Note:**

> So I had this random ass idea about a soulmate AU. Told myself I wouldn't write one of these if I couldn't make it different. But really...NOTHING IS really different about it HAHA!
> 
> PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO MY ODD TAGS

"We're going to the carnival tonight. Get your shit together Lu-bear." 

Lucas looks up from his prone position on the couch lying on his stomach. Behind him, his legs, short and slender kicked rhythmically back and forth. Heels taping his ass occasionally. Lucas lifts a brow at Yann who stands looming over him, smirk all wild and fierce, arms bare in his trademark denim cut off jacket. Thread loose at the shoulders and brushing in stark contrast against the glistening dark skin. His jeans hug thick thighs and hang loose, bunching near his calves and ankles; slivers of skin peek through the odd placed rips and tears that are everything but fashionable.

Rolling blue eyes, Lucas gestures towards the cassette player and the large noise canceling headphones that fit snugly on his head—he can imagine what it's doing to his hair— and shouts,

“Sorry, can’t hear you!” He almost smiles at the way Yann snarls, teeth all white and gleaming, at him and quick as a snake, his arms reach out and yanks the headphones off Lucas’ head, dropping the offending item to the floor with a clatter. The cassette player was in no better shape as it followed the path that Yann sent his useless piece of tech. Both broken already despite the harsh treatment of it. A souvenir he took back with him from the scrapyard. All for the look of it. 

Lucas looks up at him wide eyes, trying to hide his smile behind shock. 

“What the fuck was that for, I was _listening_ to something.”

Yann scoffs and his head tilts to the side, lips pursing in disbelief.

“That shit wasn’t even on so fuck you.”

Lucas loses his battle and lets out a chuckle before dropping his head, burrowing into his arms that he folds loosely on the couch. He noses the disgusting corduroy pattern and breathes in deeply, the faint musty smell of mold tickling the back of his throat. 

“What do you want?” He whines, voice coming out muffled from his position. He hears Yann walk away, steps loud and distant against the floor of their kitchen. He hears that familiar crack of a beer echoing then the sound of rapid swallowing. He bites at the cushion, peeks up with his blue eyes over the arm of the couch just in time to see Yann crush the can in his fist before tossing it into the dirty kitchen sink. 

They could handle it later. They always did. living here now for the past three years Lucas and Yann did their best to keep the place tidy. Of course they didn’t go out of their way to patch up what didn’t need to be patched up and more often than not, both ignored the stains on the carpets left by the previous tenants. They kept all the furniture that was left behind without batting an eye. 

Despite the condition of their run-down apartment—all cracks in the walls, broken window panes and peeling paint—Lucas and Yann didn’t make it a habit to have their living space reflect the current condition of the world outside the four walls that they call home. 

“I said we’re going to the carnival tonight, so get your ass up.”

Lucas props his head up with an arm, cheek squished against the palm of his hand.

“I don’t have money.”

“No one does.” Lucas smiles because that was the truth. A cold hard truth. He can’t remember when the economy fell apart but jobs were hard to come by. He remembers a time when he was really young—young enough that he couldn’t place names to the faces in his memory— and things weren’t so hard and the sky was still blue and there were real smiles on peoples faces. 

When people would stand on crowded buses en route to a job that brought in money and kept the economy afloat. A time when cars filled the streets with movement instead of sitting abandoned in lots, dumped because it was easier to leave behind than to keep and maintain. Lucas was too young to really understand what an economy crash was but he is old enough now to experience the backlash. He lives it everyday. It was weird. Weird because honestly he isn’t sure how the world could be so advanced and yet be so broken down into factions. There was still the rich and there was still the poor. 

That middle ground didn’t quite exist anymore. The government stopped supporting the working man and society quickly broke apart due to petty crime and small revolts. Lucas and Yann lived in a part where you held your own and did odd jobs here and there to survive. They kept together and made sure the necessities were met and had. 

He looked in the corner of the room and watched the bugs scurry and scatter before regrouping. Maybe, Lucas thinks, he could check his meager savings to see if he had enough to get a cat. He's not thinking of _buying_ a cat. He could easily nab a stray off the streets. He's more thinking along the lines of feeding one. It's a thought. 

"Alex hit me up with an extra shift at the docks last week, I'll spot you." 

Lucas hummed in response, eyes trailing his taller friend around the small and sparsely decorated space. When Yann disappears in the bathroom Lucas drops his head and let's out a silent huff. 

The carnival was something Yann always made time to attend. Twice a year it came, set up, and stayed for a week's time. And _everybody_ went: rich, poor, young, old. It didn't matter who you were. If you could walk and spare the 2 dollar entry fee, you didn't miss it. 

Perhaps there was a draw to the old timey vibe of bright lights and rickety old rides that creak, rock, and tilt precariously. And the smell of sickly sweet buttered kettle corn clogging the nostrils of carnival goers— that was Lucas' favorite part. The way a warmth would fill his belly and the scent would push his stomach into overdrive, gurgling out his hunger that he promptly ignored in favor of hopping onto a ride that came complimentary with their ticket. Those rides were almost always never fun. But Lucas didn't waste time on the rides that cost an extra fee. If he really felt like going all out, he'd ~~steal~~ take a funnel cake from a person in passing who was too busy with lights in their eyes to notice their sugary dinner was gone. 

In truth, the carnival just wasn't his thing. Hot and crowded and really, the two dollars it took to enter a shitty glowing playground could be used for groceries. Real food. He sighs again at the thought of all the food he wasn't going to buy because Yann wanted to indulge in his childish pastime. 

Lucas slaps the couch and pushes himself up, stretching out the kinks in his back and shoulders, groaning from the tingly kind of pain that he enjoys. He sniffs at his shirt, under his arms, and deems himself ready enough. He's got on a white t and a pair of jeans that hug him just right. Lucas doesn't need to freshen up because there was no one to impress. 

Not with everyone too lost in their own world in a place that was meant to bring everyone together for a night of fun, laughter, and unadulterated happiness. 

"Did you invite the boys?" He shouts at Yann while he bends to tie his worn out combat boots. 

He wiggles his toes. Satisfied. 

"Yeah. They'll meet us at the booth." Lucas moves towards the kitchen and pulls a cracked glass from the cabinet and turns on the tap. He hops onto the counter just as Yann walks into the kitchen and pulls out another beer from the fridge, their eyes catching momentarily as Yann cracks it open with one hand and the power of his pointer. Lucas drinks his water and ignores the way it's discolored an off-yellow. His taste buds were too burnt to turn away the flavor. 

He mulls over the absurdity that beer was cheaper than water and remembers when water tasted good. He wonders if Yann remembers; remembers when he would also drink water instead of cans after cans of beer. 

_"That water is nasty Lu-bear. I don't care if they said they tested it—look! It's fucking yellow. Christ."_

"But I'm not covering for them. Just you."

Lucas nods. The biggest attraction: The Booth. 

They always went to The Booth. For the past three years, twice a year, they went. Their group of friends, together, standing in a long line of people waiting for the same damn thing. And every time Lucas stood by, offering his quiet company as Yann dropped an extra five dollars just so his fingers could be pricked by a high-tech, state of the art _Soulmate_ Identifier. Three years of going through this process and the answer was always the same for Yann. Lucas never bothered with the damn thing, feeling skeptical as the stupid machine spits out an age-worn and yellowed sheet, only two fingers width thick with a click-click-beep sound that grated on his nerves. 

He recalls how adamant Yann was when he told Lucas, “it works”. Because Yann has seen it in action; watched how his grandmother, widowed at a young age, brought Yann and his mother who was still alive at the time, to the carnival. Yann’s eyes would drop slightly when telling the story; his voice would grow soft as fingers moved to run gently over the rough and chapped skin of his lips. 

“She was getting old, you know?” And Yann spoke like Lucas knew but Lucas never knew, yet he still listened to the story that Yann would retell on the nights when the air was sticky and the noise couldn’t be drowned out from the open window. When they both laid there unable to sleep even after a grueling day of chasing work and managing nothing. On nights when they both went to bed hungry and thirsty. 

“But I remember every damn time we went she’d drop that five dollars and prick her skin. I didn’t know what it meant, whenever she’d get the slip and it said _unidentified_ , but then one day it finally spit out a piece, you know? A piece with a name and a face. She was _ecstatic._ ” And Yann would smile bright, not the kind of smile he stuck on his face. Not that one that always felt _dangerous_. But a smile that felt like the old days; a smile where happiness was sewed into every stitch and twitch of skin. 

“Fucking over the moon when she found him. Mom told me she died poor as fuck. Couldn’t even afford to get a damn cardboard box to crawl into before she died, somewhere on the streets, you know? But they were together, fucking happier than any bit of misery that tried to touch them.” And the night would grow quiet around them and Yann would turn over so his back was towards Lucas. Their conversation over. And Lucas would pretend to sleep and give Yann the privacy that he needed. 

So, yeah. He went every year because who the fuck was he to tell Yann not to search for his soulmate. Who was Lucas to tell Yann that he wasn’t deserving of the happiness that he chased after during these trying times. They all needed something to look forward to. And if he had to bite his tongue and waste a night out losing himself in the nostalgia and sentimentalism of days past and holding back on the urge to kick out at clowns who walked around on sky-high stilts, then yes, Lucas would do so. 

This was Yann’s thing.

It wasn’t Lucas’. No, Lucas would rather time be spent on attempting the impossible. Spend time reviving dirt and planting seeds that refuse to grow. Boiling water that was scarce and wasting it on dirt too dry and empty to support any form of life or moldy seeds he’d picked from apple cores that he found in garbage cans. 

What he’d like is a little green and blues, and colors in his life. Lucas wants to see flowers bloom again. Wants the colors to paint him pretty. The real kind.

Not silly fairgrounds of dilapidated fun houses, stretched out grimy old mirrors that distorted reflections, and small machines that holds a world of happiness with a simple sample of your blood and the ability to print text; all situated in the middle of a bust bowl just outside of the city in god-knows-where fuckville. 

Lucas gnaws at his lips as he hops off the counter and grabs his own leather jacket, hanging by the door that he’d nicked from a body years ago, still big and loose on his small frame. He follows Yann out of the apartment, not bothering to lock the door because there was nothing worth protecting. It would cost more to replace the lock. Or door. Didn't need that on his plate.

They hop down the stairs, two at a time, steps stuttering and both are out under the cover of the night in a matter of seconds. Lucas looks up at the sky like he always does, like he expects to see something different this time. Nothing. A vast emptiness that sits above them, mocking. He knew what used to hang above him: stars a glowing pathway, dusty in its guidance, now gone. A large moon that changed its face daily pinned up in the deep blue of the sky for all the dreamers to gaze at. 

Lucas doesn’t know how long it's been since the night sky cleared out. He doesn’t know who to blame for the disappearance. But it has been so long that the memory of it is the only thing he holds onto. The resentment is already gone. Lucas isn’t even sure if those twinkling smiles, all those small explosions deep, deep in the sky of his childhood truly existed or if his mind had made them up. Created those fake little lights so that he may find something bright in his meager existence. Lucas likes to think they are real. Or at least, they were at some point, some time long ago. They were just hiding. Waiting for the right time to come back out. 

He follows close behind Yann, fingers itching to reach out to hold the hem of Yann’s jacket. Lucas never liked going out at night, the only source of light, the occasional flickering street lamp. He could hear the sounds in the distance, sounds all around him of people, and shouting, and rough laughter that spoke of imminent danger.

He looks to his left as they pass an alley and sees a boy no younger than him, shirtless and rummaging through the trash, dirty blonde hair matted against skin. He looked away. No, Lucas never liked to go out at night if he could help it. Not because he was afraid. He could handle himself; has on multiple occasions. Lucas was always willing to maim anyone who stood in his way, Yann would kill. No he wasn’t afraid. 

He just didn’t like seeing the world as it was. Especially at night. When it seemed the barest of light would shine and illuminate the decrepit state of being , even under the cover of the dark, when things were supposed to stay hidden.

His feet kick out at empty cans and broken glass bottles as they walk a path the Yann has memorized. His taller friend looks back at him and Lucas shoots him a smile, all quiet in the night. 

“You’re like a fucking kid.” 

Lucas scoffs. Says the guy leading him towards a playground for adults. 

“I hardly count 19 as being an adult, thank you very much.” Because he is still trying to figure it out. 

“Oh, before I forget.” Yann digs in his jean pockets before pulling out what looked like a fistful of seeds, all different varieties. Lucas feels a smile stretch his skin and he leans in close until his forehead rests against a sticky shoulder. He pockets the seeds and says nothing. 

“I have no fucking clue what those are but Alex said someone on the boat found them when they were clearing out the dump—you know? In one of those little white packet things?— doesn’t matter, shit isn’t gonna grow anyway.” 

Lucas smiles up at Yann, cheeks pressed firmly against his arm now. “Yann, I knew you loved me!” 

Lucas barks a laugh as he is roughly pushed away. He stumbles against the force, tripping over the dip in the cracked sidewalk and promptly finds himself on the ground. 

“Shut the fuck up, dipshit. And keep up or I’m leaving your ass here.” 

Lucas scrambles to stand, ignores the gravel that bites into his palms, smile locked on his face as he picks up the pace, fingers thrumming against his pocket feeling the weight of his seeds. Just a thin layer separating it from his skin. He knows they’re close, having only walked 15 minutes out, when there are more people walking in the same direction, showing up from every which way. Lights, a dull artificial glow, brightens Yann’s face and his eyes flash with the rapid blinking of it all in the near distance. 

He smells the butter before he hears the call and sees the signs. Where to buy the kettle-corn. In the distance, beyond the gates, he can see small children, holding the hands of adults, gorging on sticks piled high with cotton candy. 

They both wait in line until it's Yann’s turn and he pulls out four crumpled bills to cover Lucas and himself. Yann doesn’t blink as the gate keeper scans his irises with a little hand held gun that beeps its approval and Lucas has to roll his eyes before it’s his turn. 

So advanced yet kids dig through trash for food. Lucas swallows down the pill of bitterness with his glass of yellow water. He waits for the beep and is ushered in. He grits his teeth and bites his tongue till the faint flavor of copper fills his mouth. The rest of the walk is dodging the mindless idiots who move without looking and a fight to ignore every flashing display of rigged carnival games and vendors who get too handsy when you walk too close. Lucas sees the tent where he got a tattoo at, the last time he was here. A small print of a black daffodil, his mother’s favorite from what he could remember, behind his ear. He smiles at the memory of licking his lips and wearing his jeans all the little bit lower, batting his lashes and pushing those “doe” eyes—as Yann liked to call it— towards the cute blonde man holding the needle. 

He promised a mind numbing blowjob if he could get a tattoo for free. Lucas sat there for 17 minutes, cooing as he was inked, letting out the quietest ‘ahs’ and ‘ohs’ and just the slightest moans, getting his artist all hot and bothered. And when they were done, Lucas took the first opportunity to run away when his nameless artist's back was turned. When he caught up with Yann and told him what he did, Yann held his stomach and laughed, promised to help Lucas keep the area clean until it heals and told him, “You would’ve made a good whore on the streets. Get a lot of clients with a face like yours.”

They don’t talk about it again. 

Lucas doesn’t want to chance meeting up with the same tattoo artist again so he avoids that tent. 

“My _dudes_ , what is happening?” Lucas is all smiles when he hears the familiar voice of Basile and his blue eyes catch sight of Arthur who stands a little off to the side as Basile gathers both Yann and Lucas into a hug. Behind the four of them, there is a long line of people outside a small tent. A sign that says “The Booth” all lit up with flashing show lights. 

Basile pulls back and pats Lucas once, twice on the cheeks, his hazel eyes taking in Lucas, flickering up and down and left and right. 

“Lulu, you’ve gained weight!” Lucas laughs, mouth opening wide, the sound echoing in his own ears. Happiness settles nice like a warm blanket in the pit of his stomach, filling it like imaginary food. 

“Fuck off, Bas.” 

Arthur comes up and pats the both of them on the back a little awkwardly. Lucas rolls his eyes and pulls the taller, dirty blonde in for a one armed hug, dispelling Arhtur’s uneasiness. 

“How’ve you been Arthur, it’s been awhile.” 

Lucas saw Arthur as a friend, sure, but they didn’t belong in the same world. They met up twice a year. Every time it was here, outside The Booth, and always with Bas as the point of contact. Arthur was rich. Filthy rich. He drank clear water and Lucas is sure if the blonde pissed in a cup it would taste better than whatever came out his tap. 

“Good, good. It’s great to see you guys. Feels like it’s been forever.” And Lucas doesn’t remind him that it has been. “Can I get you guys something to eat? Corn Dog with mustard? Funnel Cake?” 

Lucas smiles because he knows Arthur means it. Would buy it all for them in a heartbeat. He had the funds to back up his words; could drop the money without batting an eye. So he shakes his head. 

“Not hungry, thanks. Ate before I left.” Lucas ignores the side look from Yann and the disbelief on Basile’s face. Lucas wasn’t a fucking mooch. He would rather steal on his own accord and fend for himself rather than make his friends pay for him. Yann was a different story. Lucas always met him one for one. 

“Let us get in line first then we can talk food.” 

It was a half an hour of waiting. Lucas standing there and kicking up the dirt, fingers peeking out from the long sleeves of his jacket. He held onto his own arms like a makeshift embrace as he drew patterns in the dirt and listened to Yann and Bas and Arthur fuck around, conversing about odd end jobs. Telling each other stories and saying how well they are doing, waiting for the other to read between the lines and see the truth in front of them and not in their words. 

Arthur promises a round of food after all is said and done and he refuses to take no for an answer. Lucas bites the inside of his cheeks to keep from smiling at his friends' antics. When they finally make it into the tent, Lucas ducks his head and avoids the low entrance beams that opens up into a large room. 

In the center of the room are crates overturned and stacked, planks of words laid across like a makeshift table. Five or six stations set up, three or four machines laid out and lines of people that branched out from the entrance. A current of excitement filled the room, laced with the quiet murmurings of groups, teens, adults, children, lined up and waiting for their fate to be made with a small prick and a five dollar donation. 

Lucas sees men; boys his age behind the stations walking around, bustling and carrying boxes and crates, sweating under the pressure and stifling air of the tent. It was particularly suffocating tonight. A dead wind that refused to blow or cool off the occupants of the tent. 

Lucas couldn’t breathe in the humidity. It felt like rain was in his future, on the tip of his tongue. He tasted salt in the air. But when was the last time it rained? He can’t remember. It’s been so long. 

Lucas looks at the clock stand and sees that it is ten. Yann moves with the flow of people and Lucas sticks close. Bas and Arthur branch off to a different station, following the movement of the line. It was okay. They’d regroup once it was all said and done. 

“What are you here for?”

Yann’s brows take a dive at the cocky voice of the worker who stands at least a foot taller than Yann, skin a shade darker, and smile just as dangerous. A large hand comes up to rub a smooth head. He stands shirtless in front of the both of them and Lucas trails his eyes up the washboard abs, up broad shoulders, a length of a neck and ends on the gold hoop earring that gleams in the low light of the tent. His blue eyes bounce between the two feeling like a stranger, out of place, during the stare down. 

Yann scoffs and looks down at the table. 

“Your mom’s mouth and my cock had a date. What did you think I was here for?” 

Lucas bites his lip as he watches dark brown eyes grow wide and his mouth drops open, a huff of air sounds between them and spells out disbelief. He lets out a low whistle as his head tilts in contemplation. 

“Well aren’t you just a _little spicy bitch._ ” The taller boy lets his lips stretch wide and open, teeth spit shined and eyes wild. “I fucking love spicy.” 

There’s a laugh behind the man, a loud guffaw that sounds and echoes deep and rumbling. Lucas leans to the side and sees another man, taller than him, hair wild and messy and wavy. Eyes a mix of blue and green, and a color Lucas can’t pin down. 

“With a bland palate like yours, everyone knows you can’t handle even the littlest bit of spice, Idriss.” The boy catches Lucas' eyes and winks. Long arms, toned and muscular and glistening with beads of sweat, drop the crate he was carrying with a thump on the dusty ground. 

Lucas feels his mouth dry up and that feeling like it was going to rain becomes a bit oppressive as he keeps his gaze locked on the stranger. 

“Go fuck a cow, Eliott.”

Idriss turns his attention back to Yann, hands gripping the table, and Lucas’ eyes flicker and appreciates the coils of muscle and length of arms in front of him. And then his attention is back on that other boy, Eliott, who bounds over to where they stand, a long olive toned arm, dirt speckled, thrown casually over Idriss’ broad shoulders; an angled chin resting against the juncture where Idriss’ neck meets his shoulders. 

“Alright sweet cheeks, five dollars, make it ten and I’ll have my mother meet you out back.” There’s that sly smile and laughter in his voice as Idriss addresses Yann. 

Yann tosses his five dollars on the table without another word but his lips pull up in a snarl. Without waiting, Lucas watches as Yann slams his palm down on the flat surface of the machine in front of them. He doesn’t flinch as it pricks him and when he pulls his hands away the tips of his fingers drip blood on the dirt. The ground colors a dark brown, soaking up the moisture. 

It takes a full five minutes before that familiar click-click beep sounds and Yann breaks his staring contest and Lucas looks away from that boy with the devilish smile and casual disposition. His teeth grind at the noise.

Yann snatches at the printed sheet and the three of them wait with breath abated as Yann scans the sheet. Thicker this time. A full sheet. Lucas could practically hear his friends' heart thumping in his chest before he saw the crestfallen face. 

"Well fuck me." And Lucas wished more than anything in that moment that Yann was open to physical contact. That he could have just hugged the other boy without a care. That Yann wasn't so broken by the harsh world that they've been forced to live in, to grow distant in. 

Yann holds out the piece of paper and Lucas is gifted with the sight of a smiling face, a beautiful smile of a pale girl, brown hair tied up and pulled away from a pointed chin and filled out face. Light brown eyes highlighted by the image of plump lips, soft and pale pink. A name printed. 

Chloe Jeanson. 

Underneath: _Deceased._

That low whistle sounds again and Lucas looks up at Idriss, the boy who stood leaning forward, eyes peeking at the piece of paper and a smile still wide on his face but eyes softened just a bit. 

“Tough luck sweet cheeks.” Idriss calls out. Next to him, Eliott’s eyes are softer as he looks at Lucas and Yann, the smile on his face small, sad. Like he’s seen this scene one too many times. Lucas thinks the sadness is fitting for such a handsome face. 

“Better luck next time.” Because souls were a complicated matter. And Yann wasn’t shit out of luck. But the situation at hand fucking sucked, because now he didn’t know how long he’d have to wait. 

“How about a beer after my shift, my treat.” Lucas thinks if Idriss was hoping to get lucky, he should have offered to buy Yann water. It would have been far more romantic.

Yann cracks a smile and folds the sheet of paper neatly into a little love note and stuffs it into his pockets. 

“I’m looking forward to dinner as well. When’s your shift over?” 

Eliott smacks Idriss on the back and Idriss lurches forward. 

“Spicy bitch and a queen. Alright. Deal. Meet me outside the tent at 11:00. I’ll make sure to fucking _fill_ you up.” 

Yann nods and is about to turn, Lucas following when a hand shoots out and grabs at Lucas’ arms, causing him to take pause and look up at those eyes and that smile that makes him nervous. 

“Wait. What about you?” Eliott gestures towards the machine and Lucas looks down at where long fingers are wrapped around his bicep and then back up and is quickly drawn in by the confidence he finds in those pretty, pretty eyes. 

"It's not my thing." _I don't have five dollars to waste on this shit._

And Eliott juts out his chin, tilts his head to the left till his hair, looking feathery light and clean falls on his face covering one eye from view. 

"Oh where's the fun in that. You're at The Booth. We only stop here twice a year. Live a little, how bout this." Eliott drops his arm. "This would be your first time, correct?" 

Lucas jerked his head. 

"Then it's on the house." 

Behind Eliott Idriss barks a laugh. 

"What a fucking gamble, Demaury." Lucas looks between the two of them then back at Yann, who shrugs but gives him no further help. 

On the house. Lucas says fuck it and takes a step closer to the table. He ignores the need to ask what fucking gamble _Demaury_ was taking. 

"Fine, what do I need to do." Eliott claps his hands once then braces his long arms on the makeshift table. Arms that Lucas thinks could easily lift his body up and hold him hard against a wall.Lucas swallows thickly at the image playing in his mind. 

He wants Eliott to absolutely _destroy_ him. 

Idriss took down his name, birthday, and took a picture of his face. 

"Now place your palm on the surface. It's going to hurt." Eliott grabs a hold of his hand all gentle and soft; soft like he was going to break. The taller boy guides him to hover over the machine before letting go.

"You just need to apply pressure." Lucas catches his eyes and for a moment he feels good. He forgets the cramps in his stomach. Forgets how sticky he feels and all the sweat and dirt and grime are nonexistent to him as they stare at each other. He presses down and doesn't flinch when the tips of his fingers pinch. He keeps his gaze locked onto Eliott who smiles at him, making the corners of his eyes crinkle in the best way.

Lucas wants to run his tongue along the creases. Wants to mark Eliott up— to bite at the column of his neck until the skin is blotched red and purple and beautiful and perfect. 

He doesn't hear that click-click beep but Idriss thrusts a slim piece of paper under his nose and he snatches it with his bloodied hand. 

Soulmate: _Unidentified_

When he looks up from the paper he sees Eliott's smile widen impossibly. Like unidentified was the best possible gift he'd ever receive. Lucas waves the paper between two fingers and does his best to step away, adding distance between him and Eliott. 

"Thanks." He turns again and again, a grip on his arm stops him. Before he can tell Eliott to fuck off or fuck him already, Eliott starts. 

"Make sure you come back at 11 too, yeah?" 

And Lucas loses all his words and ability to function so he simply nods and Eliott lets him go without another word before turning to greet another lucky or unlucky customer. He follows Yann out of the tent, tossing one last look behind him and is surprised to see those eyes following him out. 

Eliott winks again and sticks out his tongue. The tip of a silver barbell at the center of that pink, pink tongue, glints in the musty light and catches on teeth. The sight of it has Lucas turning around quick, away from wandering eyes and unspoken promises. He reaches down and pushes the heel of his palms against the heat in his pants. Lucas feels the spit in his mouth begin to pool just as he steps out of the tent and back under a black sky and flashing yellow, orange, and red lights. 

He takes in a large breath of air and ignores the way his lungs burn and the way Yann eyes him with a smirk. 

Lucas shakes his head,rolls his eyes and adjusts himself in his jeans then flips Yann off. 

“Oh fuck off mister _'your mom’s mouth and my cock have a date'_ ”. Yann pushes at his shoulders and Lucas nudges back, touch lingering just a little while longer. His thin fingers run the course of Yann’s arms, down to his wrist to where his fingers were left unclenched. Lucas lets his fingers brush gently at Yann’s palm and Yann moves to tickle him back. Movement barely noticeable. 

Lucas takes the answer as it was. He’d be okay. It doesn’t take long before Arthur and Bas catch up and the four of them wander the grounds. Yann ropes him into playing with dull darts and half blown up balloons. Lucas got tired of Basile’s boisterous laughter and how he kept rubbing it in that Lucas _lost_ at a fucking carnival game _to all three of them_ and when the little curly haired bastard wasn’t paying attention, Lucas threw the dart successfully sticking it on his arm. 

The _“fuck, you’re going to pay for that”_ shout and promise was absolutely fucking worth it. Basile chases Lucas who runs and dodges and hides behind Yann laughing as he is tripped up and Basile jumps on him uncaring that Lucas was getting dirty and so was he. Neither one of them paid attention to the stains on their jeans or the dirt that got matted in their hair; it was a second skin that they’ve become used to wearing. 

“Alright, alright, how bout that food I promised?” 

Lucas looked up at Arthur, panting on the ground. Basile atop of him, cheeks pressed to Lucas’ chest. No one gave the group a second glance. He gets up with the help of Yann and Arthur pulls Basile up with ease. They follow their noses to the scent of food and Lucas gives in when Arthur gives him a look. He orders a stick of cotton candy because he hasn’t tasted sugar in such a long time. He gives Yann the side eye when his friend holds an entire funnel cake up to his mouth, powdered dusting his upper lips and the side of his cheeks. 

Yann cocks a brow at his look. And Lucas fails at hiding his smirk. 

“Don’t forget you have dinner date soon.” 

“What? What’s this I hear?” Basile demands and Lucas has to turn away from Yann’s annoyed look. “Dinner date?”

Lucas’ fingers pull gently at the cloud of blue and pink and stuffs a clump into his mouth. Tongue pushing the flavor around in his mouth. 

“Shit, wish you’d just mind your damn business, Lallemant.” Yann huffs and as if protesting the gods Yann brings the cake back up to his face and takes a large bite, the powdered sugar getting everywhere. He maintains eye contact as he angrily chews his treat. 

“You can’t just leave us hanging like that, Cazas. If you’re getting dick we either need to be there to see it or get the fuck out of your way.” Bas says all this around a mouth full of corndog. “Isn’t that right boys.” He gets Arthur’s enthusiastic nod and a chuckle from Lucas. 

“Well I don’t know where you and Arthur are gonna be but don’t worry about little Lucas over there. He’s got his own dick he’s going to be hopping on.”

So they were going to play it like this. Lucas smiles at the twin pair of eyes that swivel his way and shrugs. 

“How the fuck did the two of you score dates when we’ve been here less than an hour and half the fucking time was spent waiting in a fucking line.” There is disbelief and humor in Arthur’s voice and all Lucas could do was shrug again. He licks at his lips, wetting them before plopping cotton candy on and making it stick. 

His tongue comes out and swallows down the sugar. 

“Yann hit on the dude's mother and he liked it so he offered to buy Yann a beer. My guy just thinks I’m hot.” 

“Sure, give them half the fucking story Lu-bear. Real fucking sweet of you.” 

“When are you guys supposed to meet them?” 

“11.”

Arthur pulls out his phone and the screen lights up and draws Lucas’ eyes towards the device. He can’t see what’s on the screen but it doesn’t bother him. Arthur’s brows shoot up into his hairline and he is quick to shove the phone back into his pocket.

“Dude, that was like half an hour ago.”

Lucas feels the slight jump of panic in his chest as he looks over at Yann who continues to eat his funnel cake. 

His tall friend nods and tosses up a peace sign. “Fashionably late is always better than not showing at all. We’ll see you boys later.”

Lucas has two seconds to wave goodbye before Yann grabs his arm and drags him away, back towards the tent. 

“Thanks for the food.” He waves his stick of half eaten cotton candy and Arthur shoots him a smile.


	2. In hopes that you would find me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, aren’t you a skeptical bastard. Should I ask the stars instead?” Lucas barks a laugh and holds back a shiver as Eliott uses the brush on his skin. Fine streaks of color, a deep red that he hasn’t seen in years explode, in beautiful image across his forearms. Lucas follows the movement of the brush—watches as Eliott cleans it off and dips a different color. Occasionally Eliott pauses, uses his fingers to flick the tip of the brush to splatter color in no particular order on Lucas. And Lucas thinks maybe he knows what love feels like in this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so there is smut in this chapter: FEEL free to skip if you want. I've never written a smut scene before so. Eh. Ignore how awful I am at that and just move on. I can denote the start of the scene and where it ends with a bold asterisk. Remember sex to love and one night stand tag, meh.

When they arrive there’s still a line of patrons waiting to enter. Lucas and Yann settle just outside the tent with Yann finishing off the last of his funnel cake and accepting the finger full of sugary mess that Lucas pushes against his lips. 

"Disgusting. How do you eat that shit." Yann opens his mouth to another offering and Lucas giggles at the scowl on his face. 

"Doesn't it taste like childhood?" Lucas wiggles his eyebrows when he catches Yann staring at him. When Yann pulls at the spidery confectionery and holds it out as an offering for Lucas, Lucas meets him halfway. Bends down and opens his mouth and sucks it off Yann's finger. He tastes the hint of dirt and salty sweat.

"When are you gonna stop being such a dreamer Lu-bear." 

Lucas doesn't lose his smile but he drops his eyes. He doesn't know how to tell Yann that he stopped dreaming a long time ago. 

“Oh, Eliott, look what I found. A couple of strays.” 

Lucas turns from his sugar on a stick and sees the looming shadows of the boys they’ve been waiting on. Yann rolls his eyes and stands up, pulling Lucas up with him. 

“Lucky we didn’t leave your asses for keeping us waiting.” Yann looks over to Lucas, all sly and scheming and Lucas wouldn’t be a friend if he didn’t have his back. 

“Looks like you’ll have to make it up to us somehow.” Lucas chimes in, looking up at the two friends through thick lashes. He blinks slowly, parts his lips and brings a wisp of cotton candy to his mouth, swallowing his finger down to the last knuckle before pulling it out clean, slowly. 

_You would’ve made a good whore on the streets._

He would have.

The way Idriss’ smile widens and his eyes darken sends a shiver down Lucas’ spine; a look on the man’s face that could only spell out excitement. Lucas feels a fear for Yann pool in the pit of his stomach but when he looks over at him, he sees an equally predatory smirk on Yann’s face and that feeling of unease disappears. 

Yann can handle his own. 

“Well who am I to say no? Let’s get this shit started while the night is still young.” And like that Yann is whisked away with a promise of beer and food and Lucas is left staring at Eliott with Idriss’ laughter echoing in his ears. 

Eliott takes two steps and suddenly he’s sharing Lucas’ air and Lucas has to tilt his head back to keep eye contact. He could smell Eliott from this distance. Smell that scent of hard work and laid thick with salt and sweat. Not dirty but earthy. Lucas licks his lips and he swears he tastes the scent of rain. His breath dies out in his lungs and he’s left standing there with his lips slightly parted, eyes glazed and pupils blown. 

He feels a finger pushing against his mouth and Lucas looks down at Eliott trying to feed him the last of his cotton candy. He doesn’t know what it is about this strange boy, with the heated eyes, and that stretched out smile with those laughter lines but he makes Lucas want to be taken apart by him. He wants those large hands on him pulling him at the seams until he comes undone and he wants him to sew him back together. Over and over again. 

Lucas takes the treat and nibbles the tip of the finger without breaking eye contact. 

“All _out_. Looks like we’ll need to get more.” Lucas smiles and nods. Eliott reaches down and laces their hands together and drags him out of the shadow and all Lucas can do is follow. 

He trails slightly behind Eliott as the taller boy navigates the fairground like it was his home. Like he knew all the little secrets that the carnival held. Lucas takes a moment to simply take in the other with his eyes. Broad shoulders and toned arms exposed in a white sleeveless shirt. Wavy brunette locks damp with sweat that looks smooth to the touch; Lucas wonders if he likes getting his hair pulled in bed. 

Legs. Legs that go on for days. Lucas reaches his chin when they stand side by side and there’s something about his height but Lucas loves having to look up to see his face. It’s a perfect change in pace of having to look down all the time. Lucas did enough of that to last a lifetime. Lucas watches as Eliott grabs a bag of kettle corn, prepackaged from a stand without paying and the only response he received was a glare from the vendor. 

“Here, while it’s still hot.” Eliott offers up the bag and Lucas doesn’t turn it down. He reaches for the sweet and salty snack and pops it in his mouth and when Eliott motions for him to open his mouth so he can toss him a piece, Lucas obliges. The first three miss before Lucas manages to catch one and the melodious laughter was worth every bit of embarrassment, Lucas decided. 

“I want to take you somewhere. You trust me?” 

Surprisingly yes. Lucas did. When they find themselves in front of a wooden shack with a broken sign that reads, _Mystic Readings_ , in dulled and peeling paint, Lucas has to pause and look around. There were only a few people milling around but Eliott led them to a less crowded area of the fairground; away from the crowds and noise. Led him straight to a building that was empty and looked like it would collapse on them. 

“Is this where you murder me? I’ll have you know I won’t go without a fight.” Lucas squints, trying his best to adjust his eyes in the darkness. When Eliott chuckles, a dark sound, Lucas doesn’t fight the shiver that wrecks his body. 

“A bit late in asking that aren’t we?” It takes a moment of fumbling on Eliott’s part before lights from above flicker on and the both of them are bathed in dull glow.

He sees a fortune teller table in the middle of the room, an opaque crystal ball sitting in the center of it. Dusty and unused. It sits atop an old cloth decorated with faded images of flowers, purple and red and white in color and petals wide. Lucas looks away from it. He sees shelves that line the wall, images and statues of all sorts fill the spaces. Vials and fancy shaped bottles catch Lucas’ eyes. He hears fumbling and turns to see Eliott situated at the table. Small corked jars of different and bright colors laid out in front of him. Lucas hums in curiosity. 

“Are you going to give me a reading?” He cocks his head, arms crossed behind his back. He feels the leather of his jacket bunch near his elbows. 

Eliott peaks up through his fringe and grins, hands never stopping their movement of arranging the assortment in front of him. 

“Hm, and tell me, what information are you in search of tonight? Love? Fortune? Fame?”

Lucas scoffs. “Shouldn’t you already know? Comes with the job description right?” He cocks a brow. Lucas moves closer to the table, shoulders shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the chair before he sits. His fingers run over the flowers again. He wonders what they are called. Would love to hold them in his hands. A large bouquet of them. Lucas breathes in deeply, like he could catch the scent of an image if he tried hard enough.

He watches as Eliott uncorks a jar and pours a handful of what looked like powder into small mixing bowls before dampening it with a clear and thick liquid. 

“Well, your tea leaves show me that you are—” Eliott pauses and picks up a brush to muddle the mixture. “—currently very invested in your love life. You’ve met someone new recently haven’t you?” Lucas raises a brow at Eliott’s pursed lips and hooded eyes. 

“Oh? We drinkin’ tea now, are we?” 

Without asking Eliott reaches for Lucas’ arm and yanks him closer so he lays partially across the round table. His hand and forearm exposed and pliant under Eliott’s ministrations

“Well, aren’t you a skeptical bastard. Should I ask the stars instead?” Lucas barks a laugh and holds back a shiver as Eliott uses the brush on his skin. Fine streaks of color, a deep red that he hasn’t seen in years explode, in beautiful image across his forearms. Lucas follows the movement of the brush—watches as Eliott cleans it off and dips a different color. Occasionally Eliott pauses, uses his fingers to flick the tip of the brush to splatter color in no particular order on Lucas. And Lucas thinks maybe he knows what love feels like in this moment. 

“And do you know where the stars went?” The question is light. Quiet in volume and serious and serious. And not so serious because really, Lucas doesn’t expect an answer. But Eliott stops. Stops drawing lines and stops his painting and coloring of Lucas’ skin so Lucas is forced to look up into those eyes. 

Eyes that remind him of the night sky. A sky in his memories. And he is absolutely lost in holding the gaze, watching as those deep blue, blue eyes flick up and down and stare so intensely that Lucas feels himself heat and blush. An action he thought he just wasn’t capable of anymore. And he feels his pulse jump under the grip of strong fingers and Lucas wants to whine. Because he feels desperate for Eliott to look away. 

But he stares and stares and that smile is slow in coming but when Eliott opens his mouth to respond Lucas feels like he is punched in the gut. 

“I think I might have an idea of where they all went.” Because no way was it possible, for someone he just met, to make him feel so utterly wanted. Because Eliott looks at him as if he’s stolen all the stars in the sky, like he was the light in the dim, dim world.

Lucas breaks the gaze and swallows thickly, eyes moving back to his half painted forearm. Eliott picks up again and Lucas finds it in him to quietly whisper a request. 

“Ask the stars if I’ll be taken care of tonight.” 

“Yes.” Eliott answers so quickly Lucas’ head snaps up in shock but Eliott isn’t looking at him, the other boy bent close to examine the work in progress that sits between them. 

“They used to harvest these little insects; scale insects. For the color red. Dried and ground them up and used them to dye fabrics back in the ancient times.” His voice is a steady stream of knowledge that hooks Lucas, his words the bait. “They made the brightest shade of crimson, beautiful to look at.” 

Eliott continues talking as he paints, concentrated on his task and Lucas hasn’t the heart to stop him. In fact, he doesn’t want to in the least. Likes the tickle of the brush the faint touch of breath on his wet skin. He looks down at the splash of red and finds he has to wrap his mind around the fact that there were ground up and dried dead insects on his skin. Coloring him beautifully. 

“So beautiful that they used them in everything, lipstick, food coloring. Everything. But we harvested them into extinction. Shame, really.”

But not surprising. Because this world didn’t know how to make a good thing last. Eliott blows on his heated skin. All up and down over and over and Lucas sits still as he is pampered. 

“What does unidentified mean?” 

He’s surprised by his own question and it seemed Eliott was too. He straightens in his seat, eyes growing wide and mouth dropping open. 

Something crosses on his face and before Lucas can decipher it, it’s gone. 

“Unidentified basically means your soulmate isn't registered in the system yet.” 

Something about the look on his face must have spoken volumes because Eliott breaks out into laughter. 

“It’s not necessarily a bad thing. For example, today was your first time in our system, two years ago your soulmate could have entered the system in search of you but because you never registered, the machine would have shown your soulmate the same _“unidentified”_ message.” 

Lucas slow nods, but he doesn’t quite give a shit. He’s satisfied with what he has right now. In front of him. 

“What about you? Have you ever tried to find your soulmate?” And the question makes Eliott straighten even further in his seat, a lazy smile on his face, eyes hooded as he stares Lucas down. 

“That should stay on you for at least a week if you don’t forcibly rub it off.” When he stands, Lucas’ eyes follow him up and up as he looms over him. 

“Do you like it?” Lucas stares for a bit longer before dropping his gaze and holding up his arm. Swirls of red, and blues and greens. Speckles of white glowing stars and a moon that sits perfectly on the back of his hand. Lucas thinks it’s everything he remembers seeing in pictures. A perfect representation of descriptions he’s heard from whispers during bedtime stories. Eliott gave him a world on his arm; painted him a galaxy. 

It was _everything._

“C’mon. Let’s get going. I’m thirsty and kettle corn isn’t exactly the most filling.” Lucas begs to differ but he lets Eliott laced their hands together and drag him out of the building that, surprisingly, held itself together during the duration of their visit. He has no clue what time it is but the night is quiet and there are less and less people roaming the grounds. 

Once again Eliott walks up to a vendor and asks for two corn dogs without paying a dime. 

“Do all employees get unlimited perks like you?” Eliott shoots him a secretive smile and bites down on the soggy corn dog. 

“Something like that.” 

“What’s it like?” Eliott looks at him to continue. 

“Working at a carnival.” 

Eliott shrugs. 

“I come and go as I please. It’s interesting meeting all the different types of people all over the country.” He finishes the corndog and Lucas is drawn to the way he deftly twirls the stick between his fingers. 

“It gets old fast.” Eliott turns and walks backwards so he’s facing Lucas as they move forward and Lucas preens under the attention.

“You? What do you do?”

“Survive.” Lucas snorts at himself. “Not to be melodramatic.” He shrugs. “I do odd end jobs here and there.” On some days. But jobs are hard to come by and surviving is his constant state of existence.

“Melodramatic indeed.” And the way he says this with a laughter and lightness in his eyes tells Lucas he didn’t understand. It was a tone that reminded him of Arthur. Of how they were different despite being friends. Lucas doesn’t think Eliott would like his world very much. He doesn’t quite feel like he belongs. 

Something in that revelation causes a hollow ache to thrum in his chest. He wants Eliott to belong. 

“I wonder how Yann’s holding up.” And this time it was Eliott’s turn to laugh and turn away. 

“Knowing Idriss, he’s got your friend bent over some surface by now, fucking till the sun comes up.” The way Eliott looks at Lucas as he says this, licking his lips and eyes stripping him bare has Lucas stuttering for breath. 

Lucas fights to keep his voice steady. “Knowing Yann, he’s on top.”

“No, believe me, Idriss wouldn’t let just anyone fuck him.”

Lucas rolls his eyes and bits his lips. “I didn’t say Yann would be _fucking_ him.” 

“Point taken.” 

The silence that settles between them is thick and heedy and Lucas doesn’t miss the way Eliott watches him like he wants to devour him. Lucas wants it more than anything as his breathing became labored simply from thinking about it. The heat in the air is unbearable. 

But Eliott leads him to bumper cars where two or three other cars are moving around, guided by horrible drivers, and Lucas loses his chance to jump the other boy as Eliott has him hop the guard rail and skip the lines. He doesn’t know what else he needs to do to get Eliott to see that he wants the taller boy to fuck him until he couldn’t remember his name. 

Lucas looks up at Eliott as he settles in car 6 and Eliott sits in car 10. With his voice as serious as he could possibly make it Lucas tells him, “I’m going to ram your fucking ass.”

And that devilish smile is back on his face, eyes darkened and Lucas feels the hunger. He wants to say, _“had your fucking chance, but no. You chose bumper cars.”_

“We’ll see about that.” 

They play two sessions. Lasting no more than 6 minutes each, Lucas finds every opportunity to moan and groan out loud as he is jostled around from the rough bumper to bumper grind. HIs body lurches and he bites his lips and feels his eyelids grow heavy as all of Eliott’s attention is on him the entire time. 

He lets out breathy chuckles and wide smiles that showcase his mouth and he sees the way Eliott doesn’t quite take his eyes off of Lucas and Lucas can see how he pants and gnaws at his lips. One hand on the steering wheel the other moving on his lap out of view. Shame really. Lucas would love to see what he was doing. 

When the loud buzzer goes off and their cars stop moving, Lucas stands and stretches and hops that guard rail without waiting for Eliott who was too busy adjusting himself. He stretches again till his muscles feel taut and his shirt rises to show the milky skin of his stomach. He feels the heat from Eliott's stare adding to the heat that licks the back of his neck causing his sweat to bead and drip. 

He feels wired and it doesn’t help when Eliott motions for him to wait, wait, wait a moment. Then disappears behind the employee only sign. 

When he emerges taking quick strides to meet Lucas where he’s at, Eliott tosses him something and Lucas brings a hand up to catch it on instinct. He looks at it all heavy in his hands, a short plastic bottle of water. Crystal clear and sitting impossibly in his hands. 

He looks up at Eliott who smiles at him dazzling and so, so striking that Lucas feels like that very water he holds in his hands has filled his lungs to capacity and he forgets he needs air to breathe. 

“Need help?” Eliott speaks, mockingly so as he cracks his own and takes a large sip and Lucas is watching the way his throat contracts and bobs as he swallows. 

That odd plastic crack rings in his ear as he twists the cap and Lucas hesitantly takes his first sip and nearly cries at the cleanliness that touches his tongue. Fresh and invigorating and reminds Lucas of everything he doesn’t have. 

He finds it difficult to swallow the mouthful and forces himself to look away from Eliott as he does. Pushes the water down instead of his natural reaction of wanting to spit it out. He caps the bottle and turns back at Eliott, unable to help the smile that sits wide on his face, genuine.

“Thanks.” He croaks because that one sip has yet to clear away the dirtiness of all the years past. All that uncleanliness that sits inside him and has built up throughout his years. But he cherishes it nonetheless. 

Eliott doesn’t answer, instead he tips his head back and pours his own bottle of water half on his head and down his face, running his hands through his dampen hair; an act that causes Lucas’ eyes to grow wide and a shout to rip out of his throat with a vengeance that surprises even himself. 

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” Lucas doesn’t allow the other boy to respond as he quickly rips the bottle of water, now practically empty, out of Eliott’s grip and his blue eyes look from the bottle to Eliott and back at the bottle in disbelief. 

Lucas drops it to the ground and looks back up at Eliott and at the way parts of his hair is slicked back. He takes in the way Eliott’s own personal rainshower has made droplets run down the length of his face, droplets clinging to strands of hair, dripping from the tip of his nose. 

Clinging to his lashes for dear life. Those colorful eyes still staring at him in shock and confusion. 

Lucas brings his hands up to hold onto Eliott’s warmed and moist cheeks and he draws the other down till their faces sit inches apart. 

“Around these parts we don’t go wasting water like that. Especially not the clear kind.” Lucas closes the distance, his tongue coming out to lap at the rivulets of water that catch on Eliott’s laughter lines. Runs his tongue slow and sensual, catching every drop he comes in contact with. On his nose. Cheeks. Down the angled tip of his jaw. 

He swallows down the taste of the day and night. 

Lucas doesn’t have to wait long before Eliott responds as he traces the taller boys warm wet, wet lips, tilting his head just the slightest and Eliott willingly parts them and draws him in for a forceful kiss that is all a gnash of teeth and moving of lips. 

Lucas can feel Eliott’s arms moving, quick and urgent, holding his hips, tugging at his shirt so he is touching skin and Lucas gasps against the pressure on his mouth. And it’s all harsh breathing, breathing through noses and losing himself to the heat that is against his hips. 

Lucas meets Eliott one for one and explores the other boy’s mouth, tongue roughly mapping and licking and licking and he feels his knees grow weak each time that barbell brushes against the heat of his mouth. Every time it clangs against his teeth and the ringing echoes in his head.

Each time Eliott sucks on his tongue, releases him, and goes at it again. And their kiss is all cool metal and heated tongues.

Lucas whines and gasps when he feels large fingers forcibly pull his head back, straining against his neck. He tries to move forward, tries to fight the hold, and move into Eliott’s space but the grip is relentless. Lucas closes his eyes to the feeling of Eliott biting at his neck, licking rough at his ears, teeth nipping playfully, dangerously. 

Lucas doesn’t know when they moved or when Eliott picked him up, pushing him against the wall behind the bumper cars building but he vaguely hears the resounding sound of the buzzer, dampened by the haze that clouds his thoughts. 

*****

He hears laughter in the distance and all he can do is wrap his legs and pull Eliott closer. He moans at the heat because they are so, so close and not close enough. He wants Eliott to keep doing that thing he’s doing with his tongue. 

“You’ve been teasing me all night.” Eliott’s voice is low and heavy with want and need and desire and Lucas feels satisfaction bloom in his chest because he made that happen. He unraveled this pretty, pretty boy. Lucas was the reason. 

“Eliott thrusts up and Lucas gasps at the _feel_ of how big Eliott is. How hot he feels and all he wants is for Eliott to just fuck him. 

“I want to _wreck you_. so. bad.” He punctuates each word with a thrust and grind of his hips against Lucas’ ass. 

“W-what—ah!— are you—nnh. _Waiting for?_ ” 

Lucas is reduced to a blubbering mess when Eliott finally, _finally_ , touches him. Opens up his pants and wraps his fingers around his hard cock and pulls out a loud _"oh god"_ from his kiss bruised lips. He lets out a series of ooh-ohs and ah-ahs when he feels the wetness of spit ease the movement of fingers stroking up and down. 

Lucas slams his head back harshly against the wall at the warmth that pools in his belly and bathes in the nips that Eliott leaves in trails along the length of his neck. His eyes open and unfocused because really it’s been far too long since he’s let himself go like this. Lucas brings his arms up and wraps it around Eliott’s neck, lets himself indulge and runs one hand through the dampened locks before moving to grip the hair at the base of his neck. He pushes Eliott’s face closer, holds him there and feels the moisture of his breath against his shoulders. 

Lucas feels the coils of pleasure lick at him, feels the heat continue to build as Eliott stokes it with every rough pull of his fingers. There, held up against the wall of a building by the heat of a body and one arm hooked under his thigh and another holding onto his cock with a vice grip. It’s all Lucas can do to keep his eyes open, look down at Eliott who is breathing harshly, then at the back of his arm where he catches sight of the galaxy and his breathing speeds up before it stops. Stutters just as his toes curl and his mouth drops open. Just as his eyes close shut tight and he whimpers, and Lucas doesn’t think twice as his pleasure boils over. He releases on his own stomach and all over Eliott’s fingers. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” Eliott growls.

Lucas isn’t given a chance to breathe before Eliott lets him down, turning him and his face is being pushed roughly against the rough wood. Cheeks squished, forehead scraped from the roughness, and mouth open as he continues to ride through the tingles of his orgasm. 

He lets out a low moan when he feels those fingers, wet with his cum run over his quivering backside, rubbing over and over his most sensitive parts before there is the slow burn as one finger enters him and Lucas pants out a _“fuck”._

The rough drag back and forth has him seeing sparks and he slams his fist against the wall and Eliott doesn’t tease for long as he adds another and another. And it’s the fullest Lucas has felt in so long. Lucas turns his head slightly just in time to see Eliott drip spit and the cool feel of it slides down his crack and makes Eliott’s fingers feel that much more amazing. 

“ _Baby_ ," Lucas keens at the endearment. "You’re so fucking beautiful like this. Look at the way your body is taking me in. Like you're _hungry_ for me.” Lucas feels dizzy from his words, face flushed and his cock stirs at Eliott’s praise. He pants and feels his spit pool in his mouth at how wonderful he feels. He opens his mouth and moans when he feels Eliott’s fingers glide over that spot inside him.

God, he wants to be good for Eliott; wants him to keep doing this. He wants Eliott to stop doing this. Lucas wants Eliott to replace his fingers with a hard cock and make Lucas see stars again. 

But then Eliott roughly pulls out and Lucas whines at the loss, feeling empty and cold as Eliott moves away from him. He feels Eliott tug up his pants and turn him around and Lucas is half the mind to protest before lips are on his, moving and molding against him and his words are lost on him. Eliott pulls away and rests his forehead against Lucas’s and they’re both panting and Lucas feels his heart beating hard in his chest as fingers don’t stop moving, running through his hair, touching him. Intimately. 

“Y-you didn’t— I can...with my mouth.” Lucas swallows thickly, not realizing until now how much he wants Eliott in his mouth. But Eliott pulls away slowly, shakes his head and huffs a chuckle that is all gentle and soft and his eyes close and Lucas is left staring at his face. A face that looks so peaceful. 

“Take me back to your place.” 

He finds it surprising how easily he says okay. How he is able to ignore his jumping pulse and how easy it is for him swallow thickly and calm his breathing but not his heart. He picks up his bottle of water and he takes Eliott’s hands in his and this time he’s leading the other. Out of the carnival and down the dirty streets of his neighborhood. 

When they walk, brushing shoulders and fingers touching and Lucas finds it hard not to just drag Eliott into an alleyway and demand he take him then and there. Lucas exercises patience that he didn’t know he had, but he finds the 15 minute walk to be the longest fifteen minutes of his life. 

He doesn’t think twice of opening his door and dragging Eliott into his bedroom, refusing to stop for the pleasantry of giving Eliott an apartment tour. With the door closed Lucas is quick to shed his clothing Eliotts arms helping him pull that material of his shirt up and off. He leaves his pants on while he helps undress Eliott, his fingers running over the lightly tanned skin, toned and wiry muscles that sang a song of strength. Lucas drops kisses on the exposed collarbone, licks at the sweat on skin and loves the flavor that bursts on his tongue. Lucas lets himself go and he explores the expanse of skin that Eliott offers for his eyes. His mouth goes dry when Eliott pulls off his pants and Lucas is left to see the hardened outline of his cock, nestled behind his tight briefs. 

Lucas doesn’t have to think twice before dropping to his knees and nosing the damp spot, opening and mouthing the length with his lips. Eliott’s sigh of relief and pleasure music to his ears. Lucas keens at the heavy weight of a hand on his head as he continues his path of pleasing the other. He looks up and sees how Eliott’s eyes have closed and his mouth hangs open and his chest is blushed and moving rapidly to the rhythm of his breathing. 

That same hand moves to lift him from his kneel position and Lucas meets Eliott’s rough kiss, all open mouth and fast before Eliott demands, 

“Pants off. Now.” 

Lucas moves quickly and in his haste he forgets the seeds in his pockets, a handful of them fall to his floor, quietly bouncing and landing. 

“Shit.”

“What are those?” 

Lucas looks up biting his lips before bending and gathering up the seeds, placing them back into the pocket of his jeans for safe keeping. When he knows he’s gotten every single seed, Lucas folds his jeans and places it on the floor before leading Eliott to his mattress that sits on the floor. 

He lets Eliott get comfortable, his only pillow resting behind Elliot's head, before he straddles him, grinding down on the thick thighs feeling satisfied as he picks up the sound of a punched out breath from the other. 

“They’re seeds. I like to try and grow things.” He feels the burn of embarrassment as he admits this impossibility. But something about Eliott makes him want to admit every dark little secret he has. The other makes him want to open up to the point that there was no Lucas and no Eliott; no separate beings. 

His breathing picks up when he feels two large hands reach and grip his hips on either side, the strength of them pulling him down as Eliott’s hips grind up. 

“—ah!”

“That’s fucking sexy.” 

Those hands move up, leaving burning trails in their wake, fingers twisting and pulling at his nipples harshly and Lucas throws his head back because he falls in love a little with the rough treatment. 

“ _Eliott_ , mm—ah!—h-hah! more, _please_ —” He grinds his hips down. 

Lucas finds their positioned switch in a matter of seconds, air forced out of his lungs as he bounces on the bed from the move. An arm slides under him, forcing him up onto his knees till his ass is up in the air. Eliott nudges his legs apart and Lucas whines feeling absolutely exposed. When he feels fingers pushing against his lips Lucas opens his mouth and sucks them down to the knuckle, gagging and drooling on them as Eliott pumps his fingers in and out harshly. 

“Baby, get them nice and wet. Just like that. You’re so good. _Fuck._ ” Lucas closes his eyes and works his mouth and lathers the fingers with his tongue as Eliott practically drapes himself over Lucas, whispering about how good he is, how beautiful he is. How fucking lucky Eliott _feels_. 

When Eliott pulls his fingers out Lucas gasps for air and groans as he feels those same fingers push roughly inside him. One, then two, and three and that burn is back and Lucas can’t do anything but gasp as Eliott stretches him. Fingers pushing and pulling and dragging and heavy and full and Lucas feels like it’s just not enough. 

“ _Eliott_ , n-now, hah. More, now.” 

“What? What do you want, baby? Tell me.” 

Lucas bites down at his pillow feeling the frustration build in his chest, the pressure building behind his eyes as the need for Eliott to be closer consumes him. His shoulder strains and pushes into the mattress as he turns his head again, one arm reaching out behind him; fingers digging into the flesh of his ass and holding himself open, begging for Eliott to understand. 

“ _I need you._ ” Lucas is left scrambling for purchase as Eliott pulls his fingers out, the other bent close spitting harshly, the wetness catching on his rim before he feels something bigger push against him. Eliott doesn’t give Lucas a moment to catch his breath before he’s pressed flush against him, sheathed fully in his tight heat. 

When Eliott pulls out and pushes back in the friction is mind numbing and Lucas doesn’t know how to think as he is left gasping. He barely breathes to the sound of skin slapping against skin as Eliott’s chest lines up with his back and Lucas can’t focus because that hot, thick tongue licks and bits at the skin of his shoulders, lips dropping kisses between his shoulder blades. 

And Lucas is reduced to harsh huffs of air, burning lungs and bleeding lips because he just can’t stop biting at them in attempts to hold back his groans. He loses himself each time Eliott snaps his hips just right, and the slide of a cock hits him there—

“There! right there, nn-hah, a- _aah_ , right _there_ —”and Eliott’s thrusting is violent and he loses that steady rhythm he had and Lucas is close. He digs his heels into the mattress and moves his hips meeting Eliott halfway until the blinding pleasure is too much. He world grows white. 

Lucascries out, body shuddering and clenching on Eliott who groans behind him, cock throbbing as he releases and Lucas stops breathing at the feeling at the warmth that floods him. Eliott thrusts once, twice more as Lucas tries to pull away, crying out from the over-stimulation, face heating as the sound of Eliott moving in and out echo in the empty room. 

When he pulls out Lucas whines at the emptiness and feels Eliott’s release drip down the back of his thighs as he clenches and unclenches around nothing. He knows he makes for an obscene sight but he’s too tired to care. He feels Eliott moving behind him before gentle kisses are laid down the length of his back. Lucas finds the energy, once his heart calms down to crack an eye open in time to see Eliott reach for his shirt. 

*****

Eliott is gentle as he wipes Lucas down before cleaning himself off. When he lays down, Eliott drags Lucas on top of him and Lucas can’t remember the last time someone treated him so tenderly. Can’t remember the last time he cuddled after sex; but he curls up and rests his head on Eliott’s chest as he fought sleep, just so he could continue to bathe in the moment. 

“Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake.” Eliott’s voice is rough, laced with exhaustion as he reassures Lucas. Lucas looks up at Eliott, tracing the outline of the other’s face in the darkness of his room and he feels safe, like trust was a normal thing he experienced in his life. He reaches up and lays a kiss to the corner of Eliott’s mouth, feeling out the smile in the dark and he lets sleep take over. 

When Lucas wakes to the grey brightness filtering into the room from his broken window the first thing he does his blink the sleep away. The second thing he does is look around at his bed that empty bar him. There was no shirt or pants scatter on his floor. No other body that he was curled up against. 

He took in the bareness of his room. 

His folded up pants sat innocently on the floor. Shirt crumpled next to it. Floorboards cracked and stained and dirty. Lucas sits up on his mattress; a dirty twin that lacks sheets. 

Lucas bends his knees, arms coming up to wrap around it as he rests his cheeks and stares out the window. For the first time in years Lucas felt shame fill him at his situation and the way he lived. 

He feels the walls of his throat close and a pin-prickling sensation behind his eyes before the burning in his nose comes. He shifts and hisses as a pain shoots up his spine. 

_Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake._

And Lucas hates how Eliott didn’t lie. He was there when Lucas woke. There, as a deep ache inside him, reminding him of the mistake he made in trusting his words. Reminding him that Lucas was never foolish and yet somehow he lost himself last night. Perhaps it was the sway of those flashing lights and the memories that the carnival evoked, memories that were laid to rest when he was still a child. Maybe he got lost when those feelings resurfaced and Lucas decided he could let loose for one night and forget that everyone lived in different worlds. 

Eliott who looked clean and held himself with a sure smile. Eliott who could take what he wants without having to _pay_ , Eliott who wasted water and whispered sweet nothings while he fucked Lucas. Eliott who was so, so good at providing a fake comfort. 

Lucas forgot for a moment. He wipes his running nose against the skin of his arm as he lets out a shuddering breath. 

He wouldn’t lose himself a second time. There’s a knock on his bedroom door and Lucas takes a moment to cover and calm himself. 

He calls out softly for the person on the other side to come in and isn’t surprised to see Yann’s face peeking through the crack. There’s a moment when the two simply stare at each other before Yann pushes the door open and strolls in. 

He’s shirtless and in his boxers but moves without a care. When he’s close enough Yann flops down on the bed next to Lucas and he winces. 

“You might not want to lay there.” Yann grimaces and moves over, eyes glaring at the offending mattress with so much venom that Lucas finds himself falling into a fit of laughter. 

His stomach rumbles and he ignores it in favor of lying back down and curling up next to Yann. Next to what was familiar. They don’t talk about it. Yann doesn’t mention what he was up to and Lucas works to forget and move on. Lucas lets his days bleed back into a routine of getting up and hitting the streets in search of a job that could spare him a pretty penny or two. It works for a while. He stops thinking about that night, too busy surviving, and although he manages to keep his mind from wandering he is unable to be rid of the aching hollowness in his chest. Sometimes he traces the image of where the moon used to be on the back of his hand without thinking. 

Sometimes, under the cover of the night while he tries to forget and he lies there in the dark, Lucas brings his arms up and he pretends to see the colors that have long since faded from view. And when he crashes himself down and roots himself in reality, when all his eyes see is the dirty marked up skin, Lucas leans over the side of his bed, grabs the water bottle, uncaps it and takes the smallest sip. Just enough to wet his lips. Then he sleeps and forgets again. 

Two months after the carnival and Lucas was still feeling incomplete. He tries and blames it on the lack of food, the both of them struggling to find work and bringing enough to put food on the table. Yann's smiles become strained and Lucas' nonexistent. 

At night, more often than not, Lucas finds himself crawling into Yann's bed and taking comfort in the other's heat, bathing in the calm quiet as he gets a moment's rest from the way his head spins during the day. His arms, thin and frail, wrap around Yann’s stomach as he presses his face into his back. Lucas bites back his frustration and does his best to breathe. 

“Yann?” Yann doesn’t answer but his fingers move to lace tightly with Lucas’. 

“Tell me that story about your grandmother. Tell me how happy she was.” Lucas waits.

He hears Yann breathe in and out and sighs and Lucas waits. He waits all night. Yann says nothing when Lucas’ tears soak that back of his shirt but his grip tightens their hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you thought? Thank you all for the kind comments from chapter 1. Also, some of my commenters who were regulars. I haven't heard from you in months and this is me just worried and concerned because of the shit show with the world collapsing in on us (dramatic i know) but I hope you are safe or staying safe! ilysm 😘


	3. On my way I picked those flowers abandoned by the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All the machines in the world can't recreate that feeling. That is all you. That is human. And that is what you should follow—"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3: HOPE issss not so....odd
> 
> I'm sorry for any mistakes you catch. I don't catch all my odd sentences and errors when I run through it!

“Would you just do it already you little fucking _pussy_.” Eliott looks away from the machine and glances up at Idriss who drops a crate, one on top of another. Idriss pauses in his task of setting up the makeshift table for the night and grabs the front of his shirt to wipe away the sweat that drips down his face. 

Eliott rolls his eyes at his friend who plops down on the overturned crate, legs spread wide, elbows resting on knees. He cocks a brow at the waiting look that Idriss sends him. 

“What?”

Idriss shakes his head. 

“I take it back, you’re not a pussy. You’re a coward.”

Eliott feels the lines on his face harden as he glares at the dark skinned boy, sitting all smug smirk and dancing eyes. 

“Don’t you have a job to do?”

“You think it’s that boy don’t you?" Idriss shoots a conspiratorial look at the machine that sits innocently on the table. "That one with the dick sucking lips? He do you good that night?” The look on Idriss’ face tells him to _“go ahead, deny it. I dare you to.”_

Eliott has to look away from knowing eyes to collect his thoughts. He lets out a breath that he feels like he’s been holding in for the past two months as he locks in on the machine that sits so damn innocently in front of him. 

“I told him I’d stay.”

“You mean after you fucked him?”

Eliott glares at Idriss who holds up his palms in a call for peace. Eliott runs a hand down his face in distress. He hasn’t felt right since he left that morning. Feeling like something was gone. Like he left part of himself there in the dingy little apartment. Placed it gently down on that bed for Lucas to curl up around, hold on tight, and never let it go. Eliott wasn’t so sure he even wanted it back. Because he likes the thought of Lucas keeping a part of him. 

He still wonders if he made the right decision when he woke and took in the state of the bedroom and the curled hunched up form of Lucas who looked too small on a bed that barely fit the both of them. Eliott ghosted his fingers across the unblemished skin of Lucas’ shoulders, down to his painted forearms, tracing the swirls of imaginary stars and moons and worlds. He wants to paint Lucas all over. 

Eliott wonders why he fought against his urges so hard that morning, way before the sun came up and he’d snuck out the room after getting dressed. Leaving Lucas curled up and looking so alone on his bed. When he had left he was surprised to see that boy, Yann, just coming in. They didn’t say anything to each other, but Yann’s gaze kept on him until he closed the door to the apartment. 

Even when he stepped outside, Eliott didn’t feel like he could breathe easy. And he hasn’t been able to since then. 

“I told him I’d stay,” He repeats.

“So why didn’t you?”

And all of his reasons seem so pointless the more he thinks about it. He doesn’t have a clear answer for himself, for Idriss. For Lucas. He looks over at his friend who sits waiting patiently. 

“What do you think of when you look at me?” Eliott asks this and he feels the slow drag of Idriss’ eyes. 

“Greek God, handsome as fuck, big dick.”

Eliott barks a laugh and kicks out at Idriss who breaks character for a moment to join him in laughing. 

“Listen, Eli, what did you want to hear? That it looks like you have money?” Idriss points to the crisp white shirt that he wears then at his own, an off yellow. To his well fitted jeans and to the ripped up ones that hug and hang off Idriss.

“That it looks like you haven’t worked a day in your life and you got those muscles from going to an _actual_ gym? That you shower on a regular basis?” 

Idriss runs his eyes down the length of Eliott's body.

"Our lives are completely different. I mean, you look sunkissed Eliott. Not sunburnt."

Eliott feels himself grimace, lips down turned and face pinched. Because that was exactly what he thought. 

“I could tell. That he was uncomfortable with me that night. That he thought we didn’t belong together.” He swallows around the words. "We lived in different worlds."

And he wasn't wrong. Their worlds were different. Where Eliott didn't have to think twice about food. Or _water_.

_Around these parts we don’t go wasting water like that. Especially not the clear kind._

"I asked him what he does for a living and he said, survive, and I _laughed_ , Idriss. I fucking laughed."

Idriss shrugged. 

"Some people laugh at funerals. What of it?" 

"I'm everything that he probably hates, Idriss." There is a moment when Idriss looks like he wants to punch Eliott. His eyes narrow and his mouth opens wide so his teeth glint in the light. 

"Did he say that?" 

Eliott shook his head. "I...I didn't tell him." 

"You didn't even let that poor starving boy know he was sucking on a golden dick?" 

"Fuck off. It's not like that. You fucking said it yourself. Our lives are completely different." And that scares Eliott. Scares him so much because all he wants is for things to work out. To not feel so separated from Lucas for something he didn't control. He wanted to give everything to this boy. Not because he could. But because he _wanted_ to. 

Because he just knew Lucas deserved it. More than anything. He felt the blanket of misery wrap him up in a warm embrace and Eliott felt like an idiot without an idea of what to do. 

And it must have been something in the way he held himself. Something in the way he spoke and looked up at Idriss for an answer that caused the boy to stand and drop his grin and turn serious. 

"You think he's your soulmate. Don't you?" 

"Does it matter?" 

"Look I'm only going to say this once and you better get yourself out of this self pity party shit because last I checked. You were the one that said you'd stay but didn't." 

Idriss shook his head at the way Eliott huffs. 

"Only got yourself to blame for that one." 

"Gee, thanks." 

"Anytime. Listen, you sad fucking goat, your parents _own_ the fucking carnival. You have all this wealth and look at what you're doing." 

Idriss gestures to the tent full of workers. To the makeshift tables, half of which Eliott set up himself. 

"You could be lounging in that mini mansion you call a bedroom, soaking in the pool you call a bathtub." Idriss looks incredulous at the very words he sprouts as if he truly was wondering why Eliott wasn't somewhere else. "Eating _the_ finest fucking meals and instead you're here. With us. Working your ass off. Living off that nasty ass kettle corn." 

"Don't forget corn dogs." Eliott says in a small voice feeling unbelievably vulnerable. 

"Wealth didn't matter to you before, and it shows. So why does it now?" Idriss clicks his tongue not giving Eliott a moment to answer. 

"I get it. He wasn't just poor. He's poor, _poor_. Isn't he? Little bitch probably doesn't have a penny to his name and he'd become a money grubbing whore if he knew what you were sitting on." Idriss purses his lips. 

"Did he even have mattress for you to fuck him on?"

Eliott feels his blood boil at the words that Idriss spits. An anger that sears him from the inside out. Because Lucas wasn't like that. He didn't talk about money. He didn't ask for anything. He was quiet and serious. And he joked around and he cared about things that were impossible. Lucas loved colors and the universe. Moons and stars. Lucas belonged to a different time. He was different. He wanted to make things grow and change things in those little ways that everyone else has given up on. 

"No worries Eli, I get it. He’s _not_ worth it." Idriss edges forward. Voice hot and heavy and pushing at Eliott in all the wrong ways. 

"That's not true. None of that's true. He wouldn't be with someone simply for money. He's fucking more than that. He’s different." He shouts at Idriss vehemently, truly believing what he said. “He’s more than this world deserves.” 

And Eliott knew it to be true. It might have been one night but he felt like he'd known who Lucas was. Like their time spent together was a continuation of a life that existed in a different universe and it simply bled into this one. Eliott felt Idriss grab his wrist, grip tight and he has to bend his neck to look up at his looming friend who only has kindness written into the lines of his face. 

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"You don't get it Idriss. People look at me differently. Like it's my fault the world is like this. Like I should be able to do something to fix it just because I was born into something I have no say in." Eliott stops to breathe because he's never spoken about this out loud to another person. 

Never spoke of this fear that people, that _Lucas_ , might think this way. Blame him for the fucked up society they live in. Blame him for the disparity that he had no control over, but for others, it would look as if he got the better end of the bargain. 

"I'm doing my best." Doing only what he can. 

Idriss yanks him forward by the wrist and Eliott stumbles trying his best to catch himself but failing. He gasps as Idriss forces his hand down on the machine, hard. 

"Idriss, _what the fuck!_ " 

"I asked you what you were waiting for and I didn't like your answer, _boss_." 

Eliott pulls his hand away harshly, eyes growing wide as he stares at the machine sitting so innocently on the table, his blood seeping away and out of sight; like magic. And he stares and stares because he _hasn't_ done this before. He doesn't want to yet. Because what if he is wrong? What if it wasn't Lucas. He hears that same click-click beep and before he sees the sheet spit out into Idriss’ waiting hands, Eliott drags his gaze back up at Idriss who is smiling. Smug. 

Without thinking he stumbles to his feet, swings his arm, adrenaline and anger and so, _so_ much frustration propels his fist, and he lands a punch. Blood slick, causing his clenched fingers to slide across the skin smoothly. His muscles coil and spring and ache as he feels his face flush, a rush that causes his head to spin. And all he can see and hear and taste is the way Idriss throws his head back and laughs as he steps closer until they are nose to nose. 

Eliott reads the gleam in Idriss’ eyes as excitement and danger and instincts tell him to step back but Eliott moves forward. Eliott doesn’t back down when he catches sight of a clenched fist, tightly wound, brought up and tapped gently against his cheeks. Once, twice. He flinches. 

Roughened knuckles a distinct contrast to the smooth skin on his face. 

“If that’s all you got, you and your _boy_ can go fuck off together. To whatever world you think you belong to.” Eliott looks down at the slip of paper Idriss presses against his chest. Looks back up alarmed and fear-stricken and he swallows at the reassurance he sees buried in those brown eyes. 

Eliott takes the piece of paper carefully and it slips out easily from between Idriss' fingers. He swallows against the flood of uncertainty that threatens to spill out of his mouth. Idriss looks at him expectantly. Lifts a brow and takes a step back. 

Eliott bites the inside of his cheeks as he holds up the piece of paper. Realization hits him that he is about to find out, for the first time, who his other half is. And Eliott holds back from begging for something to go right for him because deep down, something he couldn’t explain away settles his nerves. He _just_ knows that it is Lucas. Lucas the stranger that felt familiar to him. 

Lucas who looked at him unsure and so sure all at the same time. Who stood small in a leather jacket that was clearly not his and who sucked down cotton candy like it was the tastiest memories of the past.

Who trailed fingers through the dust of worn down shelves. 

Who deserved all the colors to paint his skin pretty.

Who stole the stars and hid away the moon in his eyes. 

Lucas, who fell asleep, curled up; trusting in Eliott’s promise to be there when he woke. 

He thinks of the hope in those blue, blue eyes, the acceptance and satisfaction. The way Lucas looked at him— a whisper of _we could be happy_ in his gaze. Eliott knew it wouldn’t matter what was printed on the age-worn paper. His fingers crush the sheet that is more than two finger widths wide and when he looks at his friend, it was as if the solution was there all along and Idriss was simply waiting for Eliott to wake up. 

“I...I need to get him here. Idriss, please.” Eliott isn’t sure what he’s asking. Isn’t sure if he even has the right to be asking but he knows he needs Lucas to be there, with him. So he could fix it and tell him how he wanted to stay. How he was going to stay. No matter what. He needed to make Lucas understand. 

“Christ fuck, this is why you wouldn’t survive out there. In that cold harsh world that your boy lives in. Could be dead right now and we wouldn’t even know it.”

“Don’t say shit like that. Don't even joke." 

Idriss cocks his brow. 

“Yeah? And who the fuck said I was joking. He looked like the wind could fucking knock him over that night. And it was probably one of his better days. Fucking learn to live with it Eliott.”

And Eliott has to push that fear back down and his voice comes up thick, like sap running down the roughened back of a tree. It tastes bitter in the back of his throat. 

"How do I get him here?" 

Idriss rolls his eyes. 

"He was with Broussard that night. I'd start there. But, Eliott?" 

_I do odd end jobs here and there_

Eliott locks eyes with Idriss who has been supportive through and through. Grounded him and never judged, never treated him different. Idriss who looks at him as if it pains him to say it but doesn't shy away from the truth. 

_Not to be melodramatic_

"Just fucking brace yourself. People don't last long outside, in _that_ world. Here," Idriss gestures to the tents, to the movement of all the men and women setting up for the night. _Working._ "—we've got a nice little world built for us. This carnival— it's safe. Out there? Not so much."

_Survive_

But Eliott refuses to think about that. He clenches his fists and feels then hears the crinkle of paper folding to the pressures of his fingers. He reaches for his phone and clicks on the contacts that he was always weary of reaching out to. 

He has spoken with Arthur Broussard a total of two times, both of which was to exchange pleasantries during social gatherings that he was forced to attend. He knew the boy to be kind, eccentric. Different like him and not one to lavish in his wealth. 

He has a week before the carnival moves again. Eliott calls in a favor.

*

When Lucas heard the knock on the door he felt an instant spike of adrenaline overwhelm his system because the echoing sound was sorely out of place. He looks up from the pot of red and dry dirt that he was currently burying the carcass of dead bugs into. He pushes one down with his fingers feeling the dirt fold to cover his finger as his eyes move to look at Yann who cracks an eye open from his position on the couch. Resting. Lucas bites the bullet, brushes off his finger and uses the meager strength in weakened arms to push himself up. He feels his muscles ache from the movement and his hips crack from staying in the same spot for the last two hours.

When Lucas opens the door, he does so without apprehension; a scowl already built on his face to scare away unwanted guests. He is surprised to see Bas standing on the other side, his face colored red from blood. The liquid covering half his face, mattes his hair and drips from the point of his chin. Lucas takes in the way his shirt is damp and glued to his chest. 

He hears a wailing from down the stairs, echoing in the enclosed space. Lucas looks past Basile, trying to pin down the sound and identify if they were in any great danger. He sees nothing as the wailing trails off into hiccuping sobs. 

Lucas ushers Basile in and closes the door, locking both dead bolts with a firm click. When he turns, Bas holds up a brown bag and Lucas takes it. His eyes still watch as the blood drips onto his floor. 

He cocks a brow and Bas gives him a thumbs up. 

“It’s not mine. What the fuck is wrong with your neighbor downstairs? She’s fucking crazy. Just came up to me and tried to gouge out my eyes—I might have sliced off one of her fingers.” He sounds unapologetic and Lucas shrugs— it could be because her son was murdered a week ago. He doesn’t voice his thoughts. 

Bas runs a hand down his face before shaking out his fingers and splattering the blood around him without a care. Lucas huffs his annoyance but it quickly dissipates when he sees the loaf of bread all sliced up and still a bit warm. He reaches for one, pulls it out and throws it at Yann who is watching the both of them through hazy eyes. 

Lucas savors the warmth on his tongue, eyes feeling the slightest bit moist from the taste. He’s lost count of the last time he’s had a proper meal. He wasn’t one to think bread was a meal by any means but it was better than what he has been eating for the last couple of days. Nothing. His stomach cramps when he swallows and he feels full after a couple of bites. His mind cries for the fact that if he doesn’t finish the food now, the bread will go stale. He knows this is something he can’t avoid. 

Lucas tosses another slice at Yann. 

“Lulu, you’ve gained more weight.” Bas narrows his gaze at Lucas and it takes everything in him to ignore the concern he reads in those dark hazel eyes. Bas reaches with his fingers and touches the hollows of his cheeks and Lucas has to smile. 

“Work has been plentiful and the food is too good to pass up.” He speaks around a mouth full of bread. The words come easy because he has since found himself falling into code whenever Bas was around. They both knew he’d be eating up a storm if he had the choice. And Lucas couldn’t help that he always lost weight quickly, blessed and cursed with a fast metabolism. 

“You said that three weeks ago when I was here, last. Things looking that good are they?” 

Lucas shifts his gaze at Yann and he slows his chewing. Because really, they’ve never discussed work with Bas. Lucas and Yann always struggled more than Bas because they didn’t have that nice cushion, working for Arthur. Sure, Bas wasn’t well off by any means. 

But he had work. And he would always have work and if he didn’t. Arthur was there to catch him like a safety net. Bas didn’t worry like Lucas. Bas didn’t worry like Yann. 

They didn’t hold that against him. 

“We’re fucking starving Basile, what of it? Nothing different really. Work dried up at the docks and Charles told Alex to get some other fuckers to fill shifts for him. Working for cheaper.” 

Lucas isn’t sure he reads resentment or resignation in his voice. He thinks it’s both. 

“And you?” Bas nods towards Lucas.

Lucas shakes his head. “No hits.” He doesn’t mention the fight he got in with Yann when he’d offered to hit the streets a couple of weeks ago. Yann blew up at the offer and punched him with little remorse. Lucas took the hit without a fight, feeling himself deserving because, really, he couldn’t even do something he knew he’d be good at, just to put some food into their bellies. 

Yann had bruised his face and just as quickly pulled him into a crushing hug, the both of them fell together like a pair of broken kids on their kitchen floor. And Lucas had to hide his tears as Yann crumbled like a little boy, crying. 

_“I swear I’ll kill you if you even think of selling yourself again. If we fucking starve then we starve.”_

His tone gave room for no argument and Lucas curled up, light, next to Yann that night. 

They didn’t talk about it again. 

“I know you guys always say no but Arthur actually asked me to come and see if you’d be willing to do a job for him. I’d be there too. I know jobs here are good, and It’s Arthur, but would you consider it?”

_—Would you stop being stubborn. Would you be willing to lay down your pride for just a second so you might survive. Would you open your eyes to your situation right now, bite your tongue and swallow back that pill and fucking bend for once—_

And Lucas hates how serious Bas looks, because serious doesn’t fit him. He hates the way that question lingers between the three of them, a heavy weight like crushing stone and all Yann can do is stand, make his way towards the window and look out into the bleakness. Because the option in front of them didn’t seem so great. 

Make it on their own in a world that was out to get them or eat out of the palm of a friend. They've worked for him before. Yes, but never since becoming friends. Yann and Lucas chose not to complicate that relationship. It worked for Bas and Arthur. And they were okay with that. 

Pride was a horrible thing. And rarely did it ever make sense. At least Lucas was never able to understand that disgusting feeling inside him. That feeling that always had him saying no thank you whenever Arthur offered to spot him. Because with Arthur, Lucas couldn’t pay him back. He would never be able to level himself. With Yann and Bas, he had a chance. 

“Yeah, fuck it. It’s about time for a move. What do you say?” Yann says, eyes still scanning the streets below them. When he finally turns to look at Lucas, Lucas feels an incredible sense of urgency fill him and he's quick to ask Bas— to confirm with him. 

"It's work right?"

The amount of sadness that Basile directs at Lucas is suffocating but Lucas doesn't back down. Basile smiles and cocks his head. 

"Yeah, it's work. Arthur definitely makes you earn your keep." 

And Lucas nods, throat still closed and scared that he was signing his life away. 

"Just tell me what I should pack." From his position near the window Yann barks out a laugh and Lucas follows his lead. 

"Let's just get the fuck out here. Where we headed?" 

And Basile beams at them and Lucas takes a moment to pack what little he cares for. A change of clothes and his seeds wrapped up in a plastic bag, kept safe in the back pocket of his jeans. Bas leads them out of the apartment with Yann closing up and Lucas not looking back. 

He doubts they'd return. Bas tells them, a car is waiting, and yes, Arthur is there already. There and waiting and anticipating Yann and Lucas saying yes. Just on the outskirts of the neighborhood. The drive would be half a day's drive, four or five cities east. Arthur would help set them up with a new apartment. It wouldn’t be great but maybe better than what they had. 

Yann and Lucas are quiet as Bas becomes a steady flow of words. Lucas follows behind the two of them his feet saying goodbye to the streets he spent the last three years of his life familiarizing himself with. He doesn’t quite feel sadness or a sense of loss. Hasn’t felt that in a very long time. ANd he doesn’t think of red paint and swirls and speckled eyes and a night of sparks and lights and the scent of dust, dirt and rain. 

He doesn’t think of cotton candy or heated kisses washed down with the taste of water. Lucas thinks he’s ready to work and put this place behind him. 

A new life east. Still with Yann, and now closer to Basile and Arthur. They walk until the skies turn into a wash of gradient greys, horizon touching on black. Lucas is the slightest bit impressed when he sees the sleek limo sitting idled in front of them. He can't recall the last time he sat inside a car. A memory, one he had long forgotten of a car driving away from him and never coming back. The last time he saw his parents. It tickles the back of his mind before disappearing. 

Bas opens the door, Yann let’s out a low whisper as the car opens up and Arthur’s there smiling bashfully at the attention. 

Lucas notes how uncomfortable the blonde looks under the scrutiny. He smiles reassuringly at Arthur who looks at him, dark eyes roaming over the state that Yann and him exist in currently.

Lucas almost doesn't want to hear it. The pity in his voice, a question of _"how are you?"_ asked out of pleasantry because it was clear how they were doing. 

He is surprised when Arthur clears his throat and states in the kindest voice, "You guys look like shit." And he has to laugh as he stumbles his way into the nice car. 

"It's a new beauty routine we're following, interested?" 

Arthur chuckles and shakes his head. "I'll just take your word for it." 

When they are seated Arthur knocks twice on the partition behind him and the limo lurches forward, moving. 

Lucas laughs as the color drains from Yann's face from the movement. He doesn't think Yann ever rode in a car before. He settles himself, spreads his legs the slightest so his knees bump Yann's comfortingly. A shoulder bumps his and he smiles around his nerves, not feeling too well himself. 

Lucas tilts his head and listens to the crackling sound of the radio, his stomach twisted into knots. Yann sits to his right eyes locked on the moving surrounds outside the window. Basil and Arthur sit across from the two of the both quietly conversing. 

_"Today marks the 50 year anniversary of the complete elimination of disease and sickness in the world as we know it."_

Lucas bites at his lower lips, refusing to take his eyes off the broken down homes they drive by. The lonesome kid wandering the street staring in awe as a sleek black car drives past, eyes wide and mouth wider. 

Disease and illness. So focused on that superficial layer that the rich have forgotten that there are other ways one can suffer. That the people still wither away due to starvation. Dehydration. 

That those illnesses are man made and real and still exist. People are living and trying to survive and rid themselves of the disease that this society has pushed on them. This is reality. 

_"Our healthcare systems and our schools—all of it. All is booming and our economy is stronger than ever. Most importantly, our children are safe as we continue to build this path towards a perfect society. Our future is bright!"_

No. The sun is bright. The sun was bright when it wasn't hiding. The moon is gone. The stars are gone. Packed themselves up and abandoned this god forsaken world that holds no hope. Abandoned this world and refused to shine. Tired of all the lies that sprouted from the ground and missed the flowers and trees that used to grow. 

Lucas was someone's child. Once. How safe was he? 

"Can you turn the radio off?" 

Arthur looked up, surprised, before tapping on the small partition and whispered the instruction. The noise immediately shut off and Lucas sat back and bathed in the awkwardness. That weight that settled around him again. 

He swore he felt moisture in the air, tongue darting out to wet his upper lip. He wonders if it'll rain. Right there, in that car. Water to pour down and soak the four of them. 

He could only wish. 

"So what's this job you need us to complete?" Yann asks, eyes still glued to the window at passing streets, buildings, and the dying day. 

Lucas tunes himself in, top lip drawn between teeth, lightly biting as Arthur tells them what their days will be like. 

Clearing out dumps. They could keep what they wanted. If it wasn't of value. Trash that has been piled up for the last hundred years, there to be sorted through. Lucas didn't think twice about the work. 

"The work isn't great, but there's a lot of it. And you'll get your pay at the end of your shift." Arthur shrugs his shoulders and Lucas finds his chest feel light at Arthur's obvious attempt to sound caring and not so callous. Because to Lucas, despite knowing Arthur doesn't truly understand what it means when work isn't great, at least his friend is trying. 

"So tell me what's the deal? Why now?" Yann questions, eyes flicking between Bas and Arthur. 

"I...I, uh, what do you mean?" 

"Last I checked the Broussard's were never short staffed? And the fact you waited till we showed up." 

Arthur's hand comes up and he runs nervous fingers through his blonde hair.

"Either you knew we would say yes or Bas here was told to not leave until he got a yes from us."

And that tight feeling comes back because Lucas knows Yann sounds nonchalant, like he's talking about the weather, but Lucas knows it's more than that. 

Arthur shrugs. "Bas was concerned the last time he visited. Told me it wasn't really good," Arthur sighs. " And Munier has a monopoly on the shifts around your neighborhood and city." 

There's more to it. More to the reason he took time out of his day to find Lucas and Yann at their lowest. 

"You're right, we aren't hurting for workers. But what's the point of having all this if I can't help out the people I actually care about?"

Lucas likes the bite of anger that he reads in Arthur's voice. A lick of indignation that sounds because he has to defend his actions. Yann let's him leave it at that. Gives him the win in the conversation.

"I was also thinking, after we get you settled, and after your shift Friday we could hit up the carnival. It'll be in town and last time we didn't spend too much time together. My treat." 

Lucas bits his tongue before the words _"I'm good”_ slips past his lips. Because Lucas doesn’t want to admit that loud laughter and bumper cars flashed before his eyes at the mention of a carnival. Or the deep purple of flower petals caressed the back of his eyelids as he blinked away the thought. He wonders if he’ll still be in a position to politely decline a night out after tomorrow’s shift, if he was his own person or if he now owes Arthur and has to say yes. 

“But of course, if you don’t want to that’s cool too! I’m not forcing you to.”

Lucas ignores the way his stomach churns, at the feeling that his thoughts are displayed on his face filling him to the brim. He brings a hand to cover the lower half of his face as he curls in on himself and looks out the window at the night that has fallen. An encompassing and oppressive darkness. 

“Nah, we’ll go. I’ll cover for Lu-bear though.” Lucas feels the shift of the leather next to him, feels that same press of a solid body next time. The slightest movement and he is washed with a thankfulness that he can’t express so he chooses to keep his gaze locked on nothing.

“Sounds like a plan.”

So they do. Tired but not hungry for the first time in a long time. Feeling a fullness that has been absent for the last two months has Lucas feeling lethargic and his muscles feel weighed down from overuse. They settled rather quickly into the new apartment after driving silently through the night. Yann dosed off and Lucas didn’t feel comfortable enough in a car to close his eyes. He stays awake once they arrive at the apartment as well, the quietness of the entire situation sinking into his thoughts. 

He has a bed and a room. The shared space is open, filled with a simple worn out love seat. The floors are cracked but white and the windows closed all the way. All in all everything is better and he can’t overlook the fact that his shifts would be steady for the time being. Lucas tries his best to sleep because Friday is a couple of hours away and he knew his day would be long and his night longer. Lucas lets his fingers trace the smooth sheets that he lays on, sheets that covers a double and already Lucas feels like the debt is heavy on his shoulders, sitting on his chest—making it difficult for him to breathe. 

He isn’t sure if Arthur is the one pulling the strings or if it's the preexisting condition in which they live that causes the sense of overwhelming uselessness to wash over him. Like he has no control. 

Lucas hates that when he closes his eyes the only words that sing his lullaby are the soft whispers of _“sleep.I’ll be here when you wake.”_ So he does. Knowing he’d be alone in his bed come morning and throughout the day he’d accompany Yann in sorting and separating trash. Clearing a landfill and scrap yard alike, for whatever reason his bosses deemed necessary. 

Lucas doesn’t ask anymore. He simply does. When Friday’s sun hides behind clouds and Lucas and Yann refuse to stop working for lunch, trying to get as much done as possible, Lucas finds the shift ends rather quickly. His motions a routine that he falls into rather quickly. They work alongside Bas and when it’s time, all three get in line for their daily pay from an unknown face. 

“I don’t like dealing with the money part.” Arthur’s quiet admission. Lucas folds his bills and stuffs it into his pocket. He follows Yann and Bas on the streets, walking home. All three live in the same apartment building. Bas one floor below them in a small studio. 

They stop by a corner store and Yann picks up a six pack for less than a dollar while Lucas waits outside, eyes glued to the dark clouds above in the sky. He wonders if it’ll rain. The sticky air tells him yes. History tells him no. When they get home, Lucas let’s Yann shower first while he waits, lounging on the couch. 

Lucas washes up under the weak spray of a showerhead, dresses in the same clothing he wore the first time, bar the leather jacket that he foolishly left behind the first time. Arthur meets them at the apartment and the four making that 9:30 at night walk towards signs of life. Lucas swallows past the lump of dread in his throat. Swallows it down like a pill. 

A sedative for his heart. To put his feelings to sleep. 

At the gate Lucas stands next to Yann, let’s that machine scan his eyes and is surprised when the gatekeeper looks down at his machine, looks back up at Lucas then at Yann and says, 

“2 dollars.”

Yann lifts a brow. “I’m paying for him too.” He gestures with a tilt of his head and the worker nods. 

“2 dollars.” He repeats.

Lucas bites at his lips and looks at Yann unsure. But Yann shrugs and hands over the two dollars and they’re admitted without any problems. Lucas turns and watches as Arthur pays four dollars for himself and Bas. He shakes away the feeling of unease. 

“Are we headed to the booth first?” Arthur asks once he’s close enough and Bas pumps his first. Yann nods but Lucas tells him that he’ll meet them there. 

Because there was something else he wanted to check out beforehand. He splits with the group and reassures them he is fine but he doesn’t voice how he doesn’t want to walk back into that tent. Doesn’t want to chance seeing those swirling eyes and head full of messy hair. He would, however, pay to see any interaction Yann might have with that boy Idriss. It would be entertaining he was sure. 

He walks the grounds and drops 50 cents on a stick of cotton candy as the vendor passes. Although everything is moved around the layout isn’t too different. Lucas finds it funny that of all the times he’s visited the carnival, this was the only time he’s walked with a destination in mind. The only time he outright avoided The Booth. He didn’t need to play with the universe and pretend that soulmates were a thing. A thing that would lighten his steps and make him trust in words of strangers like happiness was something palpable. Something obtainable. 

_Tell me that story about your grandmother._

Lucas finds himself dropping strings of sugar into his waiting mouth; tongue sticking to the sides of his gums as he smacks his lips. He stands outside of the building that was left empty at 11:00 just two months ago. He sees no signs of people and the sign is still hanging precariously over the entrance. 

Luces doesn’t wait before he steps in the door creaking closed before him. And everything is the same. He feels assaulted by the overwhelming sense of familiarity as if this space was home. Like he’s been here more than once, for more than a silly conversation had over spilt paint. He does his best to squash the feelings because Lucas doesn’t think there is anything to be had from letting the colors and swirls and conversations have any sway over how he felt. 

He woke up alone. That’s what he needs to remember. 

_Tell me how happy she was._

Lucas steps inside and is surprised to see the lights are on and there are already two people seated at the table. He flushes as two sets of eyes turn towards him; a beautiful dark skinned girl with eyes that are calculating seated in front of the crystal ball and a boy who looks a little older than Lucas, leaning against the table to her left. He looks kind, curled hair pushed away from his face, smile ready and dimples present. 

Lucas finds himself stumbling on his words, in a way he hasn’t done in years. Stumbling because he felt he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. 

"S-sorry. I...I didn't mean to—I'm going to go." He wants to slap himself for sounding ridiculous, pointing out the obvious, his fingers acting as directional. Like the two needed to know exactly where the exit was. He turns before he can say another word, about to step out when she calls out for him to stop. 

"Wait—please." 

Lucas pauses. His steps left suspended in mid air as if relieved. Because he didn't want to leave just yet. He shifts so he faces her. Lucas twirls his candy around a finger, feels the fine sugary fiber meld and he brings it to his mouth sucking it off. 

She smiles kindly at him as one palm hovers over the crystal ball, it glows brightly and the light glints off the golden chain that runs from her earring to her pierced nostril. Lucas finds it difficult to take his gaze off of her, the whites of her eyes bright in the dimness of the room. 

She gestures to the empty chair across from where she sits. 

"Please." Her voice is welcoming, a warmth that comforts him. He finds his legs moving on their own accord. "Would you like a reading….?" 

He finds himself looking from her to the boy who has yet to move and back down at the cloth that holds the images of flowers he was so fond of. He thinks of his daffodil behind his ear and wonders where else he might get away with tattooing another imprint of a flower. 

He lets his fingers trace the image. From open petals to closed. From one to the next until a calm blankets him and he's able to look at the two strangers without the urge to run away. 

He clears his throat. 

"Lucas. How much?"

"Anemones."

"What?"

"The flowers you trace, there," she points to the cloth. "Those are anemones. Beautiful aren't they?" 

She doesn't wait for his response as a delicate finger moves to trace a flower that sits near her arms. 

"They went extinct about a hundred years ago. The name, meant wind flower, you see—large petals so delicate in nature that a burst of wind would blow it open. Fragile,really— do you know what these flowers meant?" 

She sounds curious, asks Lucas but doesn't sound condescending. She puts an elbow on the table and her chin moves to rest in her palm, the bangles on her wrist clank together at the movement. 

Lucas shakes his head.

"And will you tell me?" She smiles at him.

"It depends on who you ask. The flowers serve as a reminder to enjoy the moment. It symbolizes fragility and anticipation. These flowers were given as protection to ward off evil and spirits. Or, if legend is to be believed, the flowers were born from the tears of the Greek goddess, Aphrodite and colored red by the blood of her slain lover, Adonis. They represent death and forsaken love." 

She shrugs. "Meaning is what we make it. I personally prefer the meaning of a closed bloom." Lucas watches as she traces the closed flower. Nails a gentle scrape on fabric. 

"And what does a closed bloom mean?" Lucas didn't realize how close he edged forward in his seat. How he felt like he was hanging off her every word. There was a quality in her voice that mesmerized him and drew him in and he found that had she given him a reading, he would have believed every word she said. 

"There is rain in your future." 

There's a sharp intake of breath and Lucas jerks away, hands knocking close to the crystal ball, his cotton candy dropping to the floor forgotten. He finds there is no room to hide from those piercing eyes. Eyes that strip him bare and he is left breathless at what could only be lies that spills from her lips. Lies of rain and flowers and lovely moments lost. And Lucas believed in those lies. Foolishly.

"Imane!" Lucas looks over at the curly haired stranger who looks just as shocked at her words. 

But Imane doesn't pay him any mind as her fingers reach out and grasp Lucas by the wrist. 

"You've come across something special recently. Haven't you? I'll chance a guess and say, love? It was a boy. Devilishly handsome, yes? " Her smile is sultry, knowing and vicious as it curls up and opens to reveal a set of teeth, glowing in the muted light. 

Lucas doesn't deny it. Doesn't have it in him to do much but swallow and listen to the way she weaves his reading, pinning everything he was feeling—down to his very core— with her words. 

"Did he leave or did you? Shall I guess again? He left." Lucas wants to say no, to vehemently deny it, because for him to leave, would imply he had a reason to stay. And Lucas isn't ready to face that truth. "And you can't understand why." 

Lucas moves. Tries his best to back away because her words cut too close. But her grip tightens. 

"Do you know how many soulmates are matched by the workings of those little metal machines, Lucas? Less than 1%." 

Her voice carries in volume as if there was an urgency in her message. An urgency for him to understand. To get it. 

"It doesn't matter how quickly the machine can make an exact match of registered users with their blood. True matches will know once they've met each other. A feeling where meeting a stranger feels like coming home. Like you are finally complete."

She lets him go and Lucas holds his wrists to his chest, feeling his pulse jump in place. Lucas narrows his gaze 

“All the machines in the world can't recreate that feeling. That is all you. That is human. And that is what you should follow. Do not take your moments for granted. Find him, don't let him run away. Not again—convince him to stay.” Imane moves to stand her arms stalking across the table until she leans more than half way on top, and Lucas is left looking up at the shiny skin, dipped in a sheen of sweat. Her brown eyes wild and her breathing matching the clinking of her jewelry that sounds with every move she makes. 

When she’s close enough, Lucas feels warm fingers gently caressing his cheeks, nails scraping at the angle of his jaw, tracing the point of his nose. Pressing down and leaving crescent shaped love marks all over his face. 

“Better yet, Lucas. Convince _yourself_ to stay. And when you've finally made your peace water will rain down on you while in the presence of the sky.”

And when she finishes, Imane draws back and that sense of urgency is gone. The air between them was humid and heavy from her words. And Lucas can’t think and his stomach wants to climb up his throat. He reads pity in her hooded gaze. 

He looks away, down at his wilted stick of tooth rot on the floor and clears his throat. 

“How much?” 

Imane sits back relaxed, the way he saw her when he first arrived. The way she was before their interaction became a flurry of words that he wishes to forget. She hums and the quality of her voice is lost on him. A soothing sound that causes fear to bubble and tingle at the tips of his fingers. 

He fights the urge to bolt, convinces himself to _stay_ instead. 

“An invite to the wedding would be nice.” The boy next to her, with the curly hair and disapproving look, taps her gently on her bare shoulders like a reprimand and when she laughs the sound is airy, light, like the dust that floats all around them. 

“You take too many privileges.” 

"As the Bekhellal's always do. Be a doll, Sofiane, and get him another," she gestures to the fallen treat. When she looks back up and smiles at Sofiane, Lucas sees the way the hardness leaves her face, her lips a display of crushed velvet that spoke of a feeling Lucas thought he shouldn't be witnessing. 

Sofiane moves his body for the first time and bends at the waist to drop a kiss on her waiting forehead. Her eyes close to the touch but Lucas reads her like an open book. Pure elation in the drop of her shoulders and the deep breath she takes. He looks to the side and at the shelves that line the walls because he is just a stranger. He has no right to witness something so intimate. 

Catches sight of beautiful golden hues and crushed crimson insects. He brushes the back of his hands on the fabric of his jeans, trying hard to get rid of the tingle; the ghost touch of bristles from a brush. 

He wonders if Imane knows how to paint. Paint stars and flowers and etch color onto skin. Form a story with more than her words. He imagines she would make a great artist. 

He thinks the two of them must be soulmates. And a flash of deep blue eyes and a wide smile and a playful tongue flashes and Lucas has to keep from closing his eyes to dream.

A tap on his shoulder and Lucas comes back only to see soft eyes staring down at him. 

Sofiane gestures with his chin and Lucas eyes him wearily but stands. He looks back at Imane, not sure what he is waiting for, but the girl smiles down at the deck of tarot cards that she skillfully shuffles and cuts and uses to flip pretty bridges through the air. 

Lucas follows Sofiane out and immediately he is hit with a wall of humidity. Hit by air that carries moisture. He feels a drop of water hit his cheek and instantly his hand moves up to catch it. Lucas looks imploringly at the tips of his finger, rubbing them together to feel the moisture and he is struck by the impossibility of it. He looks up at a cloudless sky that is dark and threatening, but empty and devoid of rain. Lucas looks back down at his fingers and brings it to rub at his eyes, wondering if the moisture came from him.

It hadn’t.

“You’ll have to forgive her.” When Lucas looks back up from his illusion of water and finds that Sofiane was looking back at him calm and sure and so, so unaware of the panic that roots Lucas to where he stands. Sofiane was soft. Soft without that edge and Lucas wonders how he maintains such a disposition. 

Like he was untouched by their world. 

“I am.”

Lucas blinks not having realized he spoke out loud. 

“I wasn’t always like this. But this,” Sofiane gestures, hands motioning back and forth at the distance that sits between him and Imane, to the invisible thing that was so palpable Lucas felt full just sitting there. “It changes you.” 

_She was ecstatic...fucking over the moon_

He runs a hand through curly locks and his smile is all bliss and a thought strikes him that he could have that. He could.

He could. And all the words—Imane’s voice mixing with Yann’s—echo like his footsteps as he follows Sofiane; takes the offered treat without question. 

_Better yet...convince **yourself**..._

“Is that the same spiel she gives everyone who waltzes through the door?”

“ _No_. God no.” Sofiane leads and Lucas follows. His chuckle causes Lucas’ chest to tighten and release at that little tidbit. He snorts around a mouthful of cotton candy when Sofiane rolls his eyes and pulls a face. 

“People rarely want the truth when they visit her.” Not when they were already living their truths. “She knows that. But Imane is good at what she does. When she’s serious—”

Sofiane trails off as if he’s thinking. Thinking of all the times he’s witnessed Imane give a reading. Of the serious and not so serious and he’s rolling her words like film in his head playing it over and over again. 

“You can trust what she has to say.”

“Are you guys soulmates?” The question finds its way out without his express permission but Lucas doesn’t cry over spilt milk and he continues moving and following without thinking too much about why he was so curious. He feels another droplet of water hit his forehead and he ignores the odd weight. The odd press on skin. Because he is absolutely convinced his mind is playing tricks on him. 

And he thinks it might be the glare of flashing lights and wonky music that plays through the air. 

“Are you asking for my answer or the answer of those little machines?” Lucas shrugs. 

“I told you, Lucas. You can trust what she has to say. Those machines can’t tell me the reason I want to simply stand by her side for the rest of my life. Is she my soulmate?” Sofiane stops walking and turns in place. He holds his hands against his chest, fingers splayed as if to contain the beating of his heart. The smile on his face tells Lucas he has failed. 

“Yeah, she is.” He shrugs again, throws his hands in the air, telling the universe to accept his answer. “I just know it. I could die curled up in her arms with nothing to my name and never be more content.” 

_Fucking happier than any bit of misery that tried to touch them._

“This is where I leave you. It was nice meeting you Lucas—I think we’ll meet again.” 

Lucas doesn’t know how to respond so he doesn’t, but he takes the soft smile thrown his way and he stores it. When he looks around he finds himself standing outside that tent he tried to run from when he first got here. Lucas rolls his eyes, because it figures this is where Sofiane would lead him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @bluronyourradar on tumblr  
> come scream at me. Prompts? Yeah I'll take em
> 
> Leave your thoughts and comments? Thank you to all of you who've left comments so far. 
> 
> Only one more part after this. And it is slightly shorter.


	4. Held them close so the rain could not wash them away.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I thought you came here just to talk?" Lucas chuckles when Eliott nips at him again. Those large hands move to hold onto his hips pressing warmth into him. Already they had broken that. What with Eliott painting intimacy on his skin and the way they’ve come to lay down on his bed, legs slotted together and close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the last one my friends, it's been fun!  
>  _someone_ was very _kindly_ asking for this chapter to be uploaded. 
> 
> I can't say it's the end for this universe but for now, it shall be.

Outside The Booth and back towards the crowd. To the center of the lights and music. Lucas finds that spot in the shadows off to the side and sits, content in waiting for his friends. He doubts they are done but refuses to head inside to check. He ignores the fact that his heart starts pumping faster every time someone walks through the flaps. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s waiting, breathing all held up and haggard in his lungs until the heat of a palm hovering close to his shoulders causes him to flinch back and round on the person. Anger written on his face. With his fingers clenched tightly, Lucas barely manages to hold back a swing as he sees that boy, Idriss, standing just behind him, palms raised for peace. 

“Hold up a sec, kitten. Someone’s wound up a little _tight_.” 

Lucas let’s go of the breath that he is holding and lets his shoulders drop but he eyes Idriss wearily. Without asking Idriss reaches for a fistful of the cloud of spun sugar and Lucas cocks a brow at the audacity of it all. 

He likes it. How unapologetic the taller boy is. How those eyes dare him to say something about his actions. 

“They don’t feed you here or something? Gotta steal candy from a kid to get by?” Idriss bears a grin and reaches for another handful and Lucas finds that smile a bit too familiar. 

“Shouldn’t you be in there with your buddies?”

Lucas shrugs and holds out his candy to share. “I’m not their keeper.”

“Someone should be watching out for you, there’s thirsty people out here.” And Lucas has to laugh at how easily that falls out from full lips and something makes Idriss join him laughing. Loud and bright and shoulders shaking. 

“I can take care of myself, thanks.” 

Idriss smiles a knowing smile and his head nods as if he’s agreeing just for the sake of agreeing. Like he doesn’t believe Lucas but he’d let it go. 

“Last time you looked like the wind could knock you over. Now? Looks like you’d kneel over if I blew on you.” 

On second thought. Idriss didn’t seem like someone who would let anything go. 

“Are you offering to blow me?”

Lucas smiles at the guffaw that Idriss lets out. 

“Fuck no, kitten. I don’t have a death wish.” Lucas scrunches his nose because he doesn’t quite understand but he follows the tilt of Idriss’ chin and he wishes he doesn’t because he suddenly feels naked under a widened gaze. 

Eliott looks the same as he had two months ago when Lucas first saw him. He wears a white v neck, skin shining with sweat, jeans hanging low on hips and hugging his legs just right. He towers and his shadow stretches to greet Lucas in all his shocked glory. 

Lucas lets his eyes roam what feels familiar and strange at the same time. He sees the dipped collar of his shirt blotched with sweat, sweat that drips generously down the side of his face.

Lucas doesn't know how long he stands there, eyes all wide and candy left forgotten but his legs want to move, to make him run away. 

"Lucas…"

And it's as if a spell breaks him from a trance when he hears that voice calling his name. Sounding something like regret. And Lucas doesn't like it. 

Because he can't tell what that regret is attached to. 

Lucas makes to take a step forward but this time there are fingers on his shoulders, thick and long and hot and he fails to avoid the grip. 

“Think I’ll leave the two of you to figure shit out.” Before Lucas could blink Idriss is bounding away. He passes Eliott and there’s a reassuring pat on his shoulders once, twice. And Lucas doesn’t understand why Eliott needs to be reassured.

He wouldn’t have been opposed to having Idriss linger. Could have wished and willed him to stay. To act as a barrier or a diversion. But Lucas doesn’t like wasting wishes so he does his best and relaxes himself and continues picking at the cotton candy. His fingers drop strands of it to the ground so his eyes could catch their descent. Makes a nice pillow cushion that would catch his heart when he inevitably threw it up. 

Because the beating only hastens when Eliott steps closer and his shadow shrinks until it bleeds into the darkness that is the tent.

“Hey.” 

“Hey...” Lucas blushes at the sound of his own voice. At the way his words come out a little breathless because Eliott is standing too close. Not close enough. He’s angry at how all his resolve to keep his head straight is completely breaking apart and they haven’t even said more than one word to each other. 

All that comes to mind are stroking fingers, breathless moans, and the sound of sliding skin playing on repeat in his thoughts. Lucas almost hates himself for the inability to control his own thoughts. 

“Can we talk?” 

But that was what they were doing. Something, maybe how he looks up with his eyebrows raised, gets Eliott to chuckle wryly. Chuckling at himself. Chuckling at Lucas? When Lucas connects with Eliott, looks him in the eye to tell him no, tell him yes—maybe to give up the choice to Eliott— he feels short of breath. 

Like he’s been running and he’s stumbled now and Eliott is there to catch him and something in him recoils at the thought.

“What about?”

It is interesting. The way Eliott’s lips move, mouth opening like he’s trying desperately to wrap his tongue around an intelligent thought but his words fail him miserably in the moment. 

“Just…”

“You don’t owe me anything.” Doesn’t owe him an explanation. But it’s a truth Lucas doesn’t quite believe. Because even now Lucas couldn’t deny that the question, that desire to know, has tickled the back of his thoughts ever since he woke up alone. With blankets pooled in his lap and the company of the morning sun and sticky skin. 

The question of why. Why _he_ felt the need to leave?

The question of what. What did _Lucas_ do wrong?

The question of how. How did he get himself into this mess? How did he get attached so quickly? _How does he stop feeling so empty?_

Though these questions float freely and occupy a space in his mind Lucas isn’t really sure he wants the answers. 

“Ah, well. I mean—” Lucas watches the way Eliott draws in his bottom lip, bites at it till the skin is a bright white and then red. 

“You don’t,” He tries again. Lucas thinks he might be convincing himself more than Eliott and that there, makes Lucas look away. Makes him look down as that urge to run comes back, so he might hide in the hidden corners—behind stands, run down buildings, large and small tents,— to recollect himself. He hates how this carnival has stolen his ability to be whole. 

“I do.” 

_An invite to the wedding would be nice._

Lucas feels his face flush, heat raising and making his ears feel warm and uncomfortable. 

Suddenly he’s there. Eliott standing tall and less than two steps away and there are fingers on his chin, beckoning Lucas to look back up. To not shy away from anything. 

"I owe you so much. But we can start with an explanation.”

And that burning pool of curiosity jumps at the thought of getting answers and it fills and overflows and Lucas can only look off to the side, away from prying eyes and nod, his chin still in the grip of fingers. He gives a slight nod in affirmation, One arm moving to wrap itself around his middle. He ignores how those eyes, all deep blue and freckled, rove over his smaller frame. Taking in his hollowed cheeks and sunken eyes, his too thin wrists and jutting collarbones. 

Lucas feels like he wants to hide. For the second time since meeting Eliott, he feels shame for something he lacks control over. But the grip on his chin tightens, draws his gaze back and he looks at the way Eliott’s mouth tightens, like he sees right through Lucas. Like he reads his thoughts on perfect display. 

Eliott shakes his head and his hair sways with the motion. His eyes narrow and Eliott practically growled out, _“don’t”_. And that’s it.

Eliott doesn’t tell Lucas how he is perfect; doesn’t tell him how beautiful he still is or how he wouldn’t have him any other way. And Lucas is thankful for that and that odd warmth that covered his face migrates to his chest. 

Lucas feels those fingers warm and tingly pressed against the skin of his face, tracing lines and flaws and mapping out his imperfections and leaving whispers of tenderness. 

“Will you...will you take me back to your place,” Eliott asks and Lucas doesn’t quite understand why disappointment creeps up at the question. But crooks a brow and his face spells it out for him as Eliott sputters and tries to regain traction, his softly uttered, _“fuck.”_

“No, no. I mean, uh, just to talk. I mean it.” Eliott closes his eyes and when he opens it he looks so determined to get Lucas to understand. Understand that he is serious. “I just want to talk.”

The promise of a night filled with words tempts him into nodding his head slowly with his eyes, once again averted. 

"Cool, is...is it alright if I go grab some things?" Eliott holds up his hand and motions for Lucas to stay put. 

"Just give me 5 minutes. I'll be right back." Lucas doesn't count the steps it takes before Eliott disappears from view. He sits back down on the ground and waits patiently as his mind flies away from him. His eyes carefully comb through the crowd of people enjoying the splashes of dull golden and murky orange lights. It paints their skin in different shades of ugly.

He wonders what he looks like, from head to toe. What the colors do to his eyes. Maybe he could ask Eliott, who looks out of breath as he bounds over to Lucas carrying a small sack. He extends a hand—helps Lucas stand—smile wide and reveals that barbell again. Lucas has to look away quickly to hide the heat on his face. 

“Lead the way.” 

Their walk to his apartment is reminiscent of the first time only minus the urgency. Lucas moves at a leisurely pace as he navigates the new streets, Eliott matching him step for step. Each time Lucas felt fingers brushing gingerly against the back of his hands, Lucas would look at Eliott—from the corner of his eyes— and see a smile playing on lips as darkened grey eyes trace dirty streets knowingly. 

When they arrive at his place Lucas feels jittery. He thinks of the morning after when shame became a friend, sitting on a dirtied bed and empty room. His mind plays with scenarios. Wondering at Eliott's thoughts and what he sees when he looks around. This apartment, far more bone bare than the last. 

His only saving grace, a bed made up with thin sheets. 

"Home sweet home." Lucas gestures with a sweep of his arms, he doesn't wait for Eliott to respond before leading to his room. He jumps on his bed that is pushed flushed against one wall, bouncing slightly.

He looks up through his lashes at Eliott who lingers by the door. Lucas pats the spot beside him. Inviting. 

They sit shoulder to shoulder his light fixture flickering occasionally casting odd shadows on their faces. Lucas feels his sweat bead and sit on the surface of his skin. He pulls at the collar of his shirt; the material damp and hugging his collarbone as he waits for Eliott to start their night of words. 

But Eliott surprises him. Reaches for the sack and opens it to spill out the contents. Little jars of colored dust and a brush and something in Lucas Lucas for the potential of it marking up his skin. He looks from the small pile to Eliott's face and there's question in his eyes. 

"I know I said talking but can I?" 

And the way he asked— asked with a slight plea in his voice and unsure eyes—like he wants so badly for Lucas to say yes. How does Lucas say no. 

How can he pretend that he doesn't want it so badly? So he nods his head and let's Eliott lead. 

He feels fingers brush the hem of his shirt as Eliott moves close, eyes holding him in an unbreaking gaze. Lucas feels him breathing, hot on his cheeks and they are so close but not close enough. Those fingers trail up his side bringing his shirt along with it. 

He feels exposed. Open. So at the mercy of those eyes that have yet to leave his face. Lucas feels parched under the intensity of it. And for a moment, his vision is blurred then clear again and he's left there, chest laid bare again, in the presence of this beautiful boy. 

It takes a second for him to catch his breath as Eliott moves away slowly, as if he didn't want to. And Lucas sits, fingers clenching the sheets beneath him watching Eliott mix the powder with that same thick liquid in those small, small bowls.

His movements, careful and calculated. At the first touch of the brush Lucas closes his eyes and breathes out feeling at ease with himself and the situation. 

The brush leaves gentle wet kisses on his arms, on his chest, the tips of his fingers—the column of his neck—Lucas remains still as a statue. 

“They said if you wanted to show someone passion...desire—a longing to be with the one you loved, you gifted them with a bouquet of camellia. Pink for when you missed them, red to show a deep desire.” 

Lucas feels the wash of words carry his heart into overdrive. 

Because Eliott speaks like he's in a trance, uttering the words soft and sure. Like he believes all the stories of the past. 

“And well, roses. Roses symbolize love. Nobody has seen a rose in over two centuries but there were so many different colors. There were red roses, pink, yellow—all with their own meanings. And well, the lavender rose was breathtaking apparently. A symbol of love at first sight.” 

When Lucas opens his eyes, a slow flicker, he’s greeted with the sight of Eliott staring back at him. 

"Funny how people thought love at first sight existed." 

Lucas looks away. Looks down at his body and finds blooms on his chest. Flowers of deep reds and picks and light lavenders crawl all over him and root him in place. Vines a deep green curl around his wrist and on the back of his hands the beautiful moon sits amongst the foliage. 

He looks back up and sees how Eliott has moved closer. His eyes drop to those lips that remain inches away.

"Yeah...funny."

There is something different about this time. Different in the way his head spins and slows and spins again as Eliott leans in and closes the distance. Where the skin of their lips touch just slightly, stick, then pull apart and Lucas feels his chest heave as he tries to get in enough air. 

Different because Eliott doesn't make a move to put his hands on Lucas but Lucas still feels those phantom fingers where the paint is drying. Like he did, like he was. Lucas tilts his head and angles his chin but keeps his lips to himself as his nose moves, brushes against Eliott and bends to the pressure. 

There is no urgency this time, no push and pull of fingers or drag of skin. No rough handling and harsh panting breaths but Lucas feels so much satisfaction in simply sitting together in this space. 

Lucas peppers small kisses to the corner of Eliott's mouth, pulls back and rests his forehead against Eliott's chest just to listen to the rapidly beating heart, a rhythm that matches his own. 

Lucas knows somewhere between them, the brush Eliott grips drips paint on his unmade bed. He can imagine how the color splatters and seeps into the mattress, fine lines of red and blues spreading out in spider webs. Lucas’ breathing picks up at the thought. His eyes look down at where their thighs touch—where his slightly bent knee rests on Elliot's rumpled shirt that rides up and exposes the skin of his stomach. 

And he is overwhelmed. Because it all feels like too much and too intimate. Even when it's just them. Just Lucas and Eliott sitting, Lucas with his legs laid out and on top of Eliott's own stretched on limbs. 

There are no arms wrapped around him. Yet he feels utterly and indescribably full and comforted. He doesn't know how to put words  
to his wants so Lucas trails one hand down until his fingers can lace with Eliott's own. 

It's all he can do but drag that hand up until it rests on his chest, just where his own heart sings his nerves. 

This time Eliott is slow and methodical in his worship of Lucas' body. Each time he drops kisses and little nips along his exposed collarbone, Lucas inhales sharply. Lucas accepts it, accepts that his arms feel right wrapping around Eliott's shoulders and when he leans close he feels like one person.

Whole. 

Eliott is so close, lips leaving pretty purples and reds on his skin, that all Lucas can do is smile as his hair tickles his face. Brushes against his skin.

"I thought you came here just to talk?" Lucas chuckles when Eliott nips at him again. Those large hands move to hold onto his hips pressing warmth into him. Already they had broken that. What with Eliott painting intimacy on his skin and the way they’ve come to lay down on his bed, legs slotted together and close. 

So close. Lucas shivers when Eliott's breath fans over his exposed skin, tongue running metal across his painted skin, slow with an ease and comfort Lucas didn't think possible. 

"I said I'd explain but give me tonight. I just want to hold you." And Lucas isn't angry. More than satisfied to remain like this so he acquiesces. Tightens his arms that wrap around Eliott's shoulders, hands resting on his back.

He nuzzles the tuft of hair that tickles his chin. 

"Tonight is yours." 

He feels the stretch of a smile against his chest against the blooms and buds of flowers painted on his skin. 

Lucas realizes just how willing he is to give away the night. 

"Come back to the carnival. I'll explain everything. Tomorrow?" 

And Lucas nods and whispers yes. He could love for one night. 

"Will you stay?" 

This time when Eliott nods, Lucas knows he's telling the truth. It's in the early hours of the morning when Lucas feels Eliott's breathing even out and crooked fingers tightening instead of loosening, against his side. It's then that Lucas falls asleep to the weight of Eliott and the heartbeat that is a steady thrum against his chest. 

Falls asleep feeling grounded and so, so light that his dreams float away from him. He doesn't wake until he feels heat licking his face. Bright spots dancing before him and Eliott above him, hair a mess and smile wide. The sunlight casts a glow around the both of them.

When he looks off to the side out his window, he's struck by the thought that he doesn't greet the morning alone for once. 

Eliott sits up in his bed, looking effortless though he just woke up and Lucas feels a pang of jealousy grip him. He shakes it off. 

"I'd offer breakfast but…" 

Eliott waves it away before he moves in and drops a kiss on his cheek. 

Lucas' hand shoots up to his face, fingers curling but barely touching for fear of rubbing it away. 

"I have to head back, actually but I wanted to wait till you woke, first." 

"You could have left." He would have understood. Would have convinced himself that Eliott had a reason to leave. 

But the fingers on his chin bring him back from creating stories. Creating timelines that didn't exist. Because Eliott didn't leave and Lucas doesn't need to think of what he would have done if Eliott had. 

"No, I really couldn't." This time he kisses Lucas' forehead. The feeling of lips lingering long after he'd already pulled away. 

"But I do need to go now...will I see you tonight?" 

Lucas nods. 

"Wouldn't miss it. " He's given a smile as Eliott gathers up his things and leaves with Lucas walking him out. 

Lucas finds it odd, rubs gently at his chest, how the inside of his chest feels desolate. Dry. The moment Eliott leaves.

He doesn't dwell on it knowing that he has more than half a day before he sees him again. Lucas goes through the motion to get ready for another day at the dump yard. He doesn't bother to shower knowing he'd quickly get dirty sifting through rotted wood, broken glass, and warped metal. 

Lucas waits for Yann to wake and they two walk together. Yann doesn't comment more than a passing, "it's fitting," when he catches sight of Lucas' painted arms. 

He doesn't ask where Lucas disappeared to last night but his arm that wrapped around Lucas, fingers weaving in his hair and pulling him close to knock forehead tells Lucas, "I'm glad you're safe."

They work in tandem, helping each other carry large pieces of wasted materials and leaving them in the designated area. Both breaking a sweat from an unforgiving heat. 

By late afternoon Lucas is exhausted and black spots color his vision. He stops what he does and takes a moment to look up at the sky as his daylight seems to fade in a matter of minutes. 

He is bathed in grey. 

"Yann." Lucas calls out to his friend. Yann pauses and moves closer to Lucas, sweaty arms bracing on Lucas' shoulders. 

He squints up at the sky. 

"Shit. I've never seen them that color before." 

above them sits rows of deeply bruised clouds, blackening the sky; almost purplish-black in their composition. 

"What do you think's going on?" 

Yann shrugs. He moves to go back to work. "Maybe the world is finally ending. Who knows?" 

Lucas smiles at Yann. Because it would be his luck. For the world to end now when he feels like he has _something_ to look forward to. 

He finishes his shift feeling contemplative and sore. But he doesn't complain. On the walk home, Lucas continues to look up at the sky, watching how those clouds remain stationary. 

In place and ominous. 

Lucas lets it go. He showers just before he's due to leave and he tells Yann he'll be back before morning, though he promises nothing. 

When he makes it to the gate, the keeper scans his eyes and ushers him in without taking payment. He waits for Eliott outside the tent, not having a way to reach the other boy but knowing he'd know where to look. 

While he waits Lucas ignores the phantom feel of wetness hitting his chin. He thinks the carnival air had done something to him. Makes him imagine and dream. 

"Lucas." 

When Lucas looks up, he doesn't quite know what he's looking at but it's a shock to his system. 

Eliott stands there in a suit and tie wearing what looked like leather shoes, spit-shined and spotless, on his feet. It was completely different from what he's presented the last two times Lucas has been with him and Lucas doesn't know what to feel or what to say as his eyes look Eliott up and down; taking in every detail. 

He doesn't fully register when Eliott moves closer, taking his hand and leading Lucas away from the shadow. 

One thing he doesn't miss are the stares thrown their way. 

Because Eliott looks good. Great even. But so out of place. 

"Can I take you somewhere...please?" Lucas swallows against the no that tries to make its way out. He wants to tell Eliott that he can simply explain himself right here. 

As Lucas opens his mouth to say yes, a loud bang tears through the air above them. There is mass panic in the split second it happens and Lucas ducks his own head, hands coming up to protect himself in case anything fell. He feels arms wrap.themselves protectively around his shoulders, one hand moving his ducked form closer to be tucked against a sturdy chest. 

Music continues to play as patrons look up at the sky trying to make sense of the blackness. No answers come. 

It only takes a couple of minutes for everything to bleed back to normal but Lucas remains tucked safely against Eliott. When Lucas pulls away, Eliott is still searching for answers in the starless sky. 

Lucas waits until he catches Eliott's eyes. Waits until things calm down for the boy in front of him. And when it does,and Eliott looks down at him—eyes roaming his face concerned and wanting to make sure he was okay, Lucas nods. 

Like the first time, Eliott leads Lucas away from the crowd. His shoulders are tense and he doesn't stop to grab treats, eyes flickering nervously up at the sky occasionally. Lucas flexes his fingers, tightens his grip and Eliott looks down at him. Lucas smiles reassuringly though he feels insides churning. He finds the false confidence worth it as the lines of stress smoothen out and his steps are a bit lighter. 

It's when he sees the big merry-go-round churning to slow music that Luxas takes pause and cocks a brow. 

Eliott looks down at him.

"What?"

"Seriously? You're going to confess all your secrets on a merry-go-round?" 

Eliott snorts. 

"I'll have you know this is one of my favorite spots." 

And like before no one is around as Eliott pulls him up onto the moving platform. It isn't fast enough to get him to trip up but despite it all Lucas stumbles and Eliott is there to catch him. The slamming of his heart against his ribcage is loud in his ears. 

His fingers brush on the fine, fine fabric of Eliott's suit and Lucas is brought back to reality. To a place where Eliott wants to explain himself. Lucas pulls away, fingers kissing the odd feeling of the fabric. 

He follows Eliott and sits down on a carriage seat that fits two. The undulating motion of the ride, a perfect rendition of how he felt on the inside manifested in front of him. Lucas sits leaning forward arms bracing on the edge of the seat. He casts a look at Eliott who looks handsome but more than a little uncomfortable. 

“You look expensive.” Lucas throws out casually over his shoulder and Eliott laughs, his shoulders moving up and down. Lucas wiggles his brows.

“Are those real leather?” He looks down at the brown shoes that looked to be capable of fetching him dinner for at least a year with how much they could be worth. 

The silence confirms his question. Lucas waits patiently and his eyes move up and he sees that a fake sky is painted above them. Constellations painted in specific patterns and shooting stars, a bright white stretches above them. He looks down at the back of his hands where the moon rests and feels a need to know what Eliott is thinking. 

Why he showed up in a suit that reeked of money. But standing so hesitant and restless. 

"We live in different worlds, and you were worried that first night. I could tell.” 

Lucas doesn’t deny it but his mouth drops open nonetheless as he thinks about that odd distance that he felt between himself and the boy at the booth. 

And they must have made quite a sight now, sitting there, still with the same distance between them. Lucas in his age worn jeans and a stained shirt that was threadbare. Eliott there in his suit sitting with an Elegance that only money and class could buy.

“My family owns the carnival. We have a monopoly on the Soulmate Industry, someone in my family way down the line, created the machine and capitalized on the fact that our lives are shit so who wouldn’t want a little bit of happiness.” 

There’s a bitterness in his tone that Lucas relates with far too well but feels that it doesn’t quite sound right coming from Eliott. 

“Why are you telling me this?” 

“I didn’t want to hide this part of myself from you. Didn’t think it’d be a nice surprise if it came up at some point.” 

Something in his chest grows very oddly tight at the information. That Eliott feels they might be doing this again. Seeing each other for more than a night. Perhaps waking together in the sunlight. Watching as the sun goes down. Falling asleep to the beating of their hearts synchronizing.

“And what should I do with this information?” _What do you want me to do?_

And as if in answer the sky breaks again for the second time that night. A loud bang rattling the entire carousel. Lucas flinches and ducks his head closer to Eliott and like the first time Eliott covers him without thought. Somewhere in the distance Lucas hears the cry of terror before the commotion dies down like it had the first time. When he looks up, cautious, he finds that he is still spinning, the carousel moving in a slow dance: unicorns slowly ascending and descending at the heart of it all. 

When he looks at Eliott, light playing tricks and making him feel what he thinks might be love, he asks again. 

“What do you want me to do?” A small rumbling lights up the sky and Lucas feels the need to know Eliott’s answer more than every. He searches those intoxicatingly blue, blue eyes. 

“Tell me.” 

“I want you to stay with me. I want you to be with me.” 

And there’s a steady pelt, a building rhythm that plays a song inside Lucas causing him to feel like crying. A pitter-patter that scares and excites him. The rumbling comes back and is steady, unrelenting. 

“And what if I don’t want to stay here? What then?”

“Then I’ll go where you want. I’ll leave this behind. Lucas I have nothing tying me down here. I come and go as I please. But I'll stay if you'll have me.”

“I don’t have food.” 

He says this all, spills out his thoughts because he doesn’t want to miss his chance; wants to make sure Eliott understands. He stands, lips curled in a gentle smile. He pulls at Eliott making him stand. 

“I barely have a place to live.” Lucas weaves between the horses and unicorns. Holds onto the metal poles, grips slippery from the moisture in the air. His nose is assaulted with the scent of earth and dry dirt made moist. 

When he turns in place he sees Eliott following him and the thrill of the chase consumes him. He moves faster. Laughter on his lips. 

“Yann is horrible in the mornings, Eliott. And the work is tough. It’s not what you’re used to.” 

He feels the other behind him, close, inches away and Lucas lets himself be caught. Strong arms turn him in place and his world spins as he breathes fast, chest heaving as Eliott holds his wrist in one hand and the small of his back in the other. 

“I have access to all this wealth but it’s not the life I want to live. I want to be happy with you. I want to be hungry with you. I want to take care of you and you to take care of me. I can do all that. Because I found you and I don’t want to let you go now that I have you. But I want you to want it.”

And Lucas believes him. Searches his eyes and sees that he means it. But a part of him is still scared that it’ll be too much for them. He could choose to stay, work and earn and spend every second with Eliott. He fears losing a part of himself if he settles for this. 

“I’ll go wherever you go. Wherever you’ll have me.”

And that steady thrum becomes a rush and all around them Lucas sees a blurred wall as the sky breaks completely. He looks out into the darkness and makes out nothing but rain. Eliott moves until they stand at the edge of the carousel, still slow with it’s turning. Eliott holds out his hands and his cupped palm fills quickly. 

“It’s _raining._ ” And there is awe in his voice. Lucas would've have just simply thought the sky was crying. 

Lucas hears the unadulterated joy and fear in the laughter of those running around for cover. The splash of water and the slap of feet in mud. Lucas watches as Eliott jumps off the carousel without notice and runs out. He continues spinning, eyes wide, waiting to make a full circle so he can see the other and when he does; Lucas jumps off the edge. 

And he lets himself be pelted. Refusing to take cover. Feels the water drip running a course through his hair and down his face. Watches as Eliott closes his eyes and tilts his head to the sky, smile wide. 

Lucas feels it all. His mind is assaulted by memories of those rare rain storms on a sunny day. A memory he'd long forgotten. Resurfaced now at the feeling of being drenched. His clothes weigh heavy and cling to his small frame. 

It reminds him of childhood...of running through the wet grass barefoot, little feet slipping while he attempts to keep his footing and do somersaults. Of chasing his mother in a drenched yellow sundress.

He looks up and sees Eliott. Dirty and wet in a suit. Looking impossibly handsome despite his state of being

“H-how...how do you feel?” It doesn’t take him a second longer before he cuts through the rain and tackles Eliott to the ground. 

Lucas is there, kneeling in mud for the first time in decades. Fingers clench in the drenched ground. The water, it slips through his grip and excitement courses through his veins when he realizes he can’t hold on. 

“Am I supposed to be able to describe it?” Does he need to put words together, string them into phrases and make sense of whatever feeling fills his chest as the sky breaks and rains water down on his back? As he boxes in the body beneath him. Eliott laid out, suit drenched and hair plastered to his face. Smile wide and eyes blinking rapidly—hiding their color from view every few seconds—just to keep the water out. 

Eliott shakes his head slowly in response and his breathing is still heavy; chest heaving. Lucas takes in the sight and doesn’t know if what he is feeling is love but he wants to lay down and give everything to this boy. And maybe it’s his heart or his mind that whispers, _he could be happy_. But he thinks he could go through with it. 

He could let go of fear and trust blindly and make this universe worth something again. Lucas could say yes, could nod his head and let whatever it is that sits between the two of them take root and grow. Feed off the wetness that surrounds them and bloom into something he could cherish. 

He drops his head and touches it to Eliott’s own, moving closer until his lips touch cold wet ones, soft and slow. And when he pulls back, just barely so that they share the same air and his nose brushes wetly against Eliott’s. He pins something down in the way his breathing stutters.

Euphoria. He feels it seeping through his pores. Fear. Absolute fear that steals his breath. But desire wins over and he lays his heart down. 

“I’m holding you to all your promises. In this life and any life after. You better find me.”

“I found you in this one. I’ll find you again.”

Lucas crashes his lips against Eliott’s and loses himself. In this universe...in all of the universes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE tell me what you think? You know how much I agonized over this particular fic? Welp tell me your wonder thoughts. Pls and thank you!
> 
> Tumblr: @bluronyourradar
> 
> come scream at me

**Author's Note:**

> K so. Honestly? What did you think of the first chapter? And please let me know if I should post the rest? I'm feeling real iffy about this one. For some reason. 😕 
> 
> I've done light editing and once again this FIC IS Complete. Because I was initially going to post it as a one-shot but decided against that.... ALSO I am working on the next chapter of From Stone, We Sculpt Symmetry (I have not forgotten any of my WIPs and short ficlet Ideas)


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